


LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 


©UJl^rig]^ ^,V- 

Shelf:.^-?.5_/ 


L 


UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 

















\ • 




I 


i 

< 

9 » 


■y 


n 





I ' 


s 


r 


# 

1 


• * ■ . 


$ 



I 


I 


I 


I 







t 












PATIENCE PRESTON M D 


/ BY 

/ 


MRS A F RAFFENSPERGER 



BOSTON 

D LOTHROP COMPANY 

FRANKLIN AND HAWLEY STREETS 


TZb 

^ U3 

? 


Copyright, 1887, 

BY 

D. Lothrop Company. 


CONTENTS 


Chapter. 

I. 

The Heart of the Hills . 



Page. 

7 

11 . 

Unexpectedly detained 



17 

III. 

A Friend made .... 



24 

IV. 

Eagle’s Mere .... 



30 

V. 

A NEW Home .... 



39 

VI. 

The Hop 



46 

VII. 

The first Patient 



55 

VIII. 

Miss Graham . ' . 



63 

IX. 

Dr. Preston’s Methods 



76 

X. 

“The youngest Member of the 

Bar ” 


87 

XL 

A serious Talk .... 



96 

XII. 

How Pet Norton went Home . 



106 

XIII. 

Mr. Forrest 



1^3 

XIV. 

A Clew 



127 

XV. 

A Disappointment 



137 

XVI. 

A MIDNIGHT Adventure 



147 

XVII. 

Mr. Dearborn’s Misadventure 



162 

XVIII. 

A NEW Project .... 



173 

XIX. 

Into the Light .... 



184 

XX. 

Collecting Bills. 



195 

XXL 

A stronger Bond 



207 

XXII. 

Jim’s broken Leg. . . ' . 



219 

XXIII. 

A CAPITAL Idea .... 



233 

XXIV. 

The New Year’s Reception 



252 

XXV. 

A “Sister Dora” 



273 

XXVL 

The Reality of it . 



294 

XXVII. 

Dillaye Preston. 



304 

XXVIIL 

“Guided in Judgment” 

, 


315 



PATIENCE PRESTON, M.D. 


CHAPTER I. 


THE HEART OF THE HILLS. 

OW long before we change cars, Patience?” 



The young woman addressed studied her 


time-table for a few moments, and replied, “Nearly 
an hour. Are you getting tired, mother ? ” 

“ I shall be very glad to rest a little while. Pa- 
tience. I hope we shall have time enough to buy 
our tickets and re -check our trunks before the 
train leaves on the other road.” 

Again the time-table was consulted, but with 
unsatisfactory results. “I don’t find a word about 
the other road, mother.” 

“Never mind; we can learn all that is necessary 
at the ticket office. But is not this a wonderful 
region of country. Patience ? ” 


7 


8 


THE HEART OF THE HILLS. 


Wonderful it certainly was. The train was wind- 
ing in and out along a tiny stream that threaded 
its way between the hills which towered some- 
times in masses of rock hundreds of feet per- 
pendicularly above the railroad, and which often 
seemed to present an impenetrable barrier as it 
drew nearer. But just when the engine appeared 
about to bury itself head-first in the side of the 
mountain, a narrow valley was disclosed to view, 
a sharp curve was made, and, lo ! another picture 
of beauty and of grandeur. And all the time 
the cars were climbing higher and higher. One 
felt it in the labored motion of the train, which 
seemed to be straining and tugging like a thing 
of life. 

Patience looked out of the window ; then she 
turned and glanced apprehensively at her mother’s 
face. 

“Yes, it is very beautiful. But you are com- 
pletely worn out, -mother. You look very tired. 
Let me give you a little wine.” 

Certainly there were tears in the mother’s eyes ; 
but the eyes showed evident familiarity with tears. 

“Don’t, mother! Here, drink this wine. Now 
eat a cracker.” 


9 


THE HEART OF THE HILLS. 

( 

The mother made an effort to comply. There 
was a pitiful attempt to conceal her tears, or at 
least to bid them back to their source, but she 
was only partially successful. Patience looked 
out of the window again. 

O, mother ! look at those rocks. They al- 
most seem like walls piled by human hands. Can 
you see the moss and ferns by the road ? I never 
saw anything so wonderful. And that little water- 
fall — is it not lovely.^ There’s another ; just a 

I 

ribbon of water floating down over the mossy 
rocks.” 

Patience was doing her best to interest her 
mother, and to divert her thoughts from her sor- 
row. Mrs. Preston understood the loving device 
and tried to appear interested. Meanwhile the 
train hurried on, turning now to the right, now to 
the left, and all the time climbing up and still up- 
ward. 

At length they skirted the borders of a minia- 
ture lake, which sparkled and glowed in its setting 
of green trees, and tossed itself in tiny waves. 
The conductor entered the car and announced, 
“ Eagle’s Mere,” and was immediately succeeded 
by a brakeman who also shouted ‘‘ Eagle’s Mere,” 


lO 


THE HEART OF THE HILLS. 


“The Lake of the Eagles,” said Mrs. Preston. 
“Now I see the appropriateness of the name. I 
did not suppose there could be a lake so high up 
in the mountains.” 

Meanwhile the two ladies gathered up their be- 
longings and left the car, for here they were to 
take another road. 

They hurried to the ticket office, and quietly 
waited their turn to be served by the somewhat 
surly ticket agent. He was evidently a man of 
few words, and those few were spoken as if under 
protest. He apparently regarded the travelling 
public as having only one set and fixed purpose, 
a determination to annoy him. He answered the 
questions addressed to him with such an air of 
lofty condescension that the inquirer was a brave 
man who would pursue his investigations to any 
considerable extent. 

Mrs. Preston finally made her way into the im- 
mediate presence of this high and mighty power. 

“When does the train leave for Piedmpnt ? ” 

“ To-morrow.” 

“Is there no train this evening ? ” 

“ To-morrow,” he repeated sternly, and waved 
her away from the window. 


THE HEART OF THE HILLS. 


II 


She rejoined her daughter. 

We cannot go any further this evening, Pa- 
tience ; we must find a hotel.” 

“ Well, mother, you sit down and rest, and I 
will ask about a hotel.” 

Mrs. Preston obeyed wearily, and looked at 
the pushing, crowding, impatient, tired throng of 
travellers. She wondered vaguely where they all 
came from, and whither they were journeying. 
Had they left happy homes behind them } Were 
they eagerly hastening towards friends and home } 
Or were they, like herself, “strangers and pil- 
grims ” ? 

Her thoughts reverted to her own sorrows. She 
tried to put aside the sad memories that rushed 
unbidden into her mind. But she felt so utterly 
lonely and forlorn, in that strange place, weary 
and travel-worn ! 

It was well Patience came in just then, or Mrs. 
Preston must have given way to a paroxysm of 
grief. She had drawn her heavy veil over her 
eyes, which were dim with tears. 

“ Mother, I have found a very nice, quiet home- 
like hotel, only a few steps away. I have en- 
gaged a room and ordered supper. Here comes 


12 


THE HEART OF THE HILLS. 


the porter for our hand-bags,” and she handed 
him her luggage. 

“We will leave our trunks here, mother.” 

They walked the short distance to the hotel, 
and were at once shown to a cosey room on the 
second floor. 

Mrs. Preston looked around approvingly. 

“ I am very glad we could not go on to-night,” 
she said, as she sank wearily into an easy chair. 

Patience threw aside her hat and gloves. 

“ Now, mother, let me help you ; ” and she un- 
tied the bonnet strings, took off the loose travel- 
ling wrap her mother wore, and unbuttoned her 
boots. 

“Put on these slippers, mother,” bringing a 
pair out of her bag. “Now I will bathe your face 
and brush your hair, and then we will have our 
tea brought up into the room. I am sure you will 
feel better after you drink a cup of tea and eat 
some toast.” But as she busied herself lovingly 
about her mother, she looked apprehensive and 
worried. 

The supper was brought, and Mrs. Preston 
made an effort to drink the tea, but could not. 

“ Please try, mother,” said Patience. 


The heart of the hills. 


13 


‘‘Indeed, my dear child, I cannot.” 

“ Well, never mind. Perhaps it will be better 
for you to go to bed and sleep. I am going to 
give you some bromide to quiet you.” 

“ It is very comforting to take one’s physician 
along when travelling,” said Mrs. Preston, smiling. 

Patience responded pleasantly, and assisted her 
mother in undressing. When she had taken the 
bromide and was finally settled in bed. Patience 
sat down by the open window, and looked out 
upon the little lake that was now reflecting the 
red rays of the setting sun. She glanced alter- 
nately at her mother and at the beautiful view 
outside of her window. Finally her mother slept, 
but not restfully and quietly. Her face grew 
flushed. She tossed and moaned, and occasion- 
ally muttered words that made Patience close her 
lips tightly together, and frown ominously. 

“ Is there nothing that can purchase absolute for- 
getfulness, even in sleep ? Poor mother ! Asleep 
or awake, the same memories and visions haunt 
her. It is wrong ; it is unjust ; it is cruel ! Why 
must she suffer so, through no fault of her own ? ” 

Patience Preston, M. D., was naturally a very 
self-contained and self-reliant young woman, and 


14 the heart of the hills. 

her avocation had strengthened these traits of 
character. But the circumstances in which she 
was now situated would have been trying to one 
older and stronger than she. As the hours of the 
night wore on she saw her mother was growing 
worse, and all her professional resources seemed 
useless. She took one remedy after another from 
her medicine case, and tried everything that sug- 
gested itself to her as at all likely to benefit her 
patient ; but long before morning her heart sunk 
within her as she was forced to confess to herself 
that her mother had brain fever. 

And here they were, strangers, alone! No 
wonder the hours dragged wearily by, though 
Patience forgot that she had been wearied by long 
travel, and no thought of sleep crossed her mind. 
She busied herself by her mother s bedside, put- 
ting napkins wet in cold water, on the burning 
forehead, bathing the hot hands, and fanning the 
fevered face. Then she walked to the window, 
rolled up the shade, and looked out into the quiet 
night. A full moon silvered the little lake. How 
beautiful it was, how peaceful ! 

But the sight did not quiet Patience’s perturbed 
mind. 


THE HEART OF THE HILLS. 1 5 

“ Cold and calm and cruel. What does Nature 
care for aching and breaking hearts ? What sym- 
pathy has she for our sorrows } What help for 
our weakness } What suggestion for our per- 
plexities ? The moon shines as radiantly as if 
her rays did not fall on thousands of sorrowing 
souls ; as if she did not look down on tragedies 
and tears ! I can’t abide it ! ” and she drew down 
the shade and turned to her mother’s bedside. 

“ Patience, Patience ! ” called her mother, gaz- 
ing wildly around the room. 

^‘Here I am, mother dear,” and she put her 
cool firm hand on her mother’s forehead. 

“I thought he was here. Patience. Has he 
been here } Is he coming, oh ! is he coming 

The daughter’s face grew stern and hard. 

“We are alone, mother. Take this ice-water, 
and then try to sleep.” 

But already the mind of the sufferer was wan- 
dering far away from her present surroundings, 
and Patience was forced to listen to words that 
wrung her heart, and moans that she could not 
forbear echoing, till it seemed as if her own brain 
would reel and give way. 

So the night dragged on, but not once, through 


1 6 THE HEART OF THE HILLS. 

all its dreadful hours, did Patience Preston kneel 
to ask aid or sympathy from the loving Master 
whose ear would have heard her faintest whisper. 
She did not believe in Him. She did not care for 
His assistance. 


CHAPTER 11. 


UNEXPECTEDLY DETAINED. 

J UST before daybreak Mrs. Preston seemed 
resting more easily, and Patience threw her- 
self down on the lounge. She thought she could 
not sleep, but she was tired, body and soul, and 
almost as soon as her head touched the pillow she 
was asleep, and so gained strength for the coming 
day. Fortunately she was not aroused for two or 
three hours — not until some one rapped at her 
door to announce that breakfast was ready for 
passengers on the Piedmont train. 

“Tell the landlord to come up to my room,” 
Patience said to the boy who had rapped at the 
door. 

In course of time the landlord made his appear- 
ance. 

“ My mother has been taken very ill since we 
came, and we cannot leave to-day. I think she 


17 


1 8 UNEXPECTEDLY DETAINED. 

will not be able to go for several days. Can you 
allow us to keep this room ? ” 

The landlord looked perplexed. 

“ I don’t like to have sickness in my house. It 
hurts business, you know. I hope she hasn’t 
nothing catching ? ” 

Patience made haste to explain that her mother 
had neither small-pox nor whooping-cough, nor any 
other contagious disease. She had been in great 
trouble, and was worn out with anxiety and travel. 

“ I am sorry for both of you, indeed I be,” and 
the man’s kindly face proved the truth of his 
assertion, “and if you’ll send out for Dr. Graham - 
to see your mother, and he says it’s not catching, 
why, then you can stay and welcome, if — ” 

“Yes, I can pay you in advance, if you wish ; ” 
and Patience took out her well-filled pocket-book. 

“ No, indeed ; not at all necessary. Shall I 
send for Dr. Graham ? ” 

“ But I am a doctor myself, and I don’t think it 
necessary to send for him.” 

“You! A doctor!” and the landlord looked 
incredulously at the youthful face and trim figure 
before him. He seemed to think her brain was 
affected, also. 


UNEXPECTEDLY DETAINED. 


19 


‘‘Yes; I am a doctor. Probably you are not 
accustomed to seeing women who practice medi- 
cine.^ ” 

“No, that’s a fact : and,” he added candidly, “I 
shouldn’t have much opinion of ’em, neither.” 

“Well, send for Dr. Graham, then — and have 
my breakfast sent up to me,” she added hastily, 
as she heard her mother moan and call, “ Patience.” 

Breakfast came, and so, after a time, did Dr. 
Graham. He was a physician of the old school — 
dignified, courtly, ponderous. He held out his 
gloved hand to Patience as he entered, and then 
walked directly to the bed on which Mrs. Preston 
was now tossing restlessly. 

“Give me your hand. Madam ! ” and he took her 
wrist between his fingers ; he had withdrawn his 
glove for the purpose. Patience stood gravely 
beside him. 

“Ah! Um ! Great excitement of the circula- 
tion. High fever. Tendency to cerebral inflam- 
mation.” 

“Let me explain. Doctor, that my mother has 
had great trouble lately — anxiety and nervous 
shock — and the added fatigue of travel has broken 
her down. I think the symptoms indicate brain 


iO UNEXPECTEDLY DETAINED. 

fever. I have given her bromide during the night, 
also Dover’s powders, and have kept cold applica- 
cations to her head.” 

The doctor bowed gallantly. “You are a young 
woman of excellent judgment. A physician could 
hardly do more than you have done — in fact, I 
will prescribe a continuance of the same treat- 
ment. I am glad to see our patient has so com- 
petent a nurse.” He bowed again, most politely. 

“ I am a physician myself, or I should not have 
ventured to prescribe,” said Patience quietly. 

Dr. Graham had committed himself both to her 
diagnosis and treatment, but he looked, at this 
announcement, as if he wished he had not. Pa- 
tience could read his face. It said, plainly enough : 
“This young woman a doctor! Oh I the degen- 
eracy of the times. Women are lovely in their 
proper sphere, but when they set up to practice 
medicine they are ridiculous and positively dan- 
gerous.” 

“Very well,” he said coolly; “then I suppose 
you do not wish for my services } ” 

“ If I had not wanted you I certainly should not 
have sent for you,” said Patience with spirit. “ I 
recognized the gravity of my mother’s condition. 


UNEXPECTEDLY DETAINED. 


and I wished for counsel. And it is satisfactory 
to know that a practitioner of so much skill and 
eminence agrees with me,” and she smiled gravely. 

Dr. Graham was susceptible to such delicate 
flattery, and he looked quite amiable. 

“ Please to call again this evening. Dr. Graham. 
And will you, on your way down, assure the land- 
lord that my mother has no contagious disease, 
and so set his mind at rest on that point ? ” 

Dr. Graham drew on his gloves with great de- 
liberation, took his hat and gold-headed cane in 
his hand, and left the room with a most dignified 
and gracious bow. 

“ Just like all the rest of his sex,” was the men- 
tal comment of Patience. “ As long as he saw in 
me only an unsophisticated young girl, a stranger, 
alone with my sick mother, he doubtless felt very 
chivalrous, and brimful of good will and all that 
sort of thing, but when I made myself known as 
a woman who had a definite work in the world, 
and who proposed to do it, then he was up in arms 
at once. But I intend to follow out my chosen 
course of life regardless of Dr. Graham and all 
who are like him — yes, and in spite of them, too.” 

Nevertheless, in the trying week that followed^ 


22 


UNEXPECTEDLY DETAINED. 


Patience was many times glad that she had the 
experience and skill of Dr. Graham to fall back 
upon in the stern conflict between life and death. 
It needed not even so practiced an eye as hers to 
discern that it was a hand-to-hand fight, and many 
times the issue was extremely doubtful. 

Dr. Graham, on his part, seemed to forget that 
Patience was an M. D., and, therefore, in his can- 
did opinion, an unsexed woman as well as a pos- 
sible, though of course harmless, rival. She was 
a young woman, with a dying mother — or a 
mother who was in great danger — and among 
strangers. Her forlorn condition appealed to his 
sympathy, and he grew to look upon her with 
almost fatherly fondness. He shared with her 
the watching by night, realizing as well as Pa- 
tience did the need of constant and careful atten- 
tion, and that it would be unsafe to trust the 
patient to unskilled nursing. 

It was fortunate that the sick-room was in a 
remote and quiet. wing of the hotel. After the 
landlord had been assured by Dr. Graham that 
Mrs. Preston’s disease was not “ catching,” and, 
possibly, influenced somewhat by the well-filled 
purse he had seen, — for it is in human nature to be 


UNEXPECTEDLY DETAINED. 


23 


thus influenced, — he was kindness itself, and in- 
sisted that Patience should call upon him or the 
servants whenever anything was needed for the 
patient’s comfort. 

Gradually Mrs. Preston’s illness became known 
to the few boarders in the hotel, and also to the 
people ot the town, and many delicate little tokens 
of sympathy and kindness came to the sick room, 
which quite won the heart of the anxious and 
lonely watcher. Flowers were sent in abundance, 
and scarcely a day passed but a servant from some 
of the Eagle’s Mere families appeared with a dain- 
tily-arranged salver on which was some tempting 
delicacy for the sick woman, and a message of 
kindly inquiry and proffered assistance. 

Patience was growing fond of these people 
whom she had never seen, and was beginning to 
ask herself why she should not stay among them, 
and begin anew her life-work at Eagle’s Mere. 


CHAPTER III. 


A FRIEND MADE. 

W ELL, I am happy to say that I consider 
your mother quite out of danger this 
morning, Miss Preston,” announced Dr. Graham 
some two weeks after his first visit. 

“ I am very glad to hear you say so. Dr. Gra- 
ham, because it confirms my own impression.” 

“ I beg your pardon ; I had forgotten that you 
claim to be a physician yourself ; ” and there was 
an almost imperceptible sound of sarcasm in his 
voice. “ I suppose you are also an advocate of 
woman suffrage, and all the other advanced theo- 
ries of the day ? ” 

“ I am almost ashamed to say. Dr. Graham, that 
I have been so busy studying medicine that I have 
given little tiipe or thought to that fearful heresy 
you suppose me to advocate ; ” laughed Patience 
pleasantly. 

“ Indeed ! ” Dr. Graham lifted his shaggy eye- 

24 


A FRIEND MADE. 


25 


brows incredulously. “ I thought the two things 
went together.” 

“ Dr. Graham, please listen to me ! When I 
was very young I had a great desire to study 
medicine. As I grew older my mother encour- 
aged me in my inclination. She sent me to a 
good school till I was fitted to enter a medical col- 
lege. Then I went to the Philadelphia Women’s 
Medical College and took a thorough course. I 
graduated, and have the diploma of the college. 
Now, circumstances make it necessary for me to 
practice. Can you — can any reasonable man — 
see any good and sufficient reason why I should 
not follow my profession ? I do not expect a 
general practice, but surely there is a wide field 
for a medical woman among the sick of her own 
sex, and the little children whose natural nurse 
she is.” 

Dr. Graham was silent, but not convinced. The 
next question he had not anticipated. 

What do you think of my settling here .^” 

It was a hard question for him to answer. Pro- 
fessionally, as a man and a physician, he would 
rather Patience Preston would go to Halifax, if 
she so desired. But as a friend, and as a man 


26 


A FRIEND MADE. 


who had all chivalrous and kindly impulses deep 
down in his soul, he could not discourage this 
brave little woman in her effort to win a reputa- 
tion, and a livelihood, right here, under his pro- 
fessional nose. Perhaps his reply was even more 
encouraging then he really intended it, for just at 
that moment a vision of his own cherished dar- 
ling, sweet, and helpless, and sheltered, came be- 
fore his mind. What if she were in the place of 
Patience? 

‘‘Try it, Miss Patience! ” 

“ Will you stand by me ? ” 

If Dr. Graham had been told one month before 
that he would have committed himself to stand 
by and give moral and practical countenance 
to a “ female doctor,” as he was prone to term 
the class, somewhat contemptuously, he would 
have indignantly scorned the possibility of such 
an act. Yet, when Patience Preston, M. D., looked 
directly into his face with her clear gray eyes, and 
asked him this straightforward question, he did 
not hesitate one moment. 

“ I will,” he responded heartily ; and he was the 
kind of a man to keep his promise. 

Patience really did not expect so cordial a reply. 


A FRIEND MADE. 


27 


She knew his opinion of her, not as a woman, but 
as a woman out of her appropriate sphere, and she 
was surprised when he promised his countenance 
and support. 

“ Then, if mother approves, I think I shall soon 
find an office, and hang out my sign.” 

‘‘And I hope, my dear young friend, you will 
be successful beyond your brightest anticipations,” 
responded Dr. Graham. Having consented to 
stand sponsor for Miss Preston, he at once began 
to feel a lively interest in her future career. 

Mrs. Preston spoke feebly, from her bed, to 
which she was yet confined, “What are you dis- 
cussing so earnestly ? ” 

“The feasibility — or rather advisability — of 
hanging out my shingle in Eagle’s Mere,” said Pa- 
tience, sitting down beside her mother and taking 
her thin white hand in her own. 

“ What does Dr. Graham think ^ 

Mrs. Preston evidently had come to hold Dr. 
Graham’s opinion in great regard. 

“ He thinks well of the plan, and has promised 
me his support.” 

“ I could not refuse such a persevering young 
woman, when she asked me. Besides, I have had 


28 


A FRIEND MADE. 


opportunity to judge of her skill in your sick room, 
and, be assured, I have formed a high opinion of 
her attainments ; ” and he made one of his old- 
fashioned, formal bows toward the young doctor. 

“Thank you,” said Patience pleasantly. 

Dr. Graham bowed himself out of the room, 
after promising to call again, in a friendly, rather 
than professional way, quite soon. 

“ There, I wonder if I have made an old fool of 
myself,” was his mental query as soon as he was 
out of doors. “What will the Medical Society say 
when they learn that I have endorsed a woman 
doctor.? They would have done the same if they 
had been in my place, There is something very 
compelling in those clear gray eyes of hers. Hang 
it ! I’ve said I’d stand by her, and I will, Medical 
Society or no Medical Society ! ” And Dr. Graham 
brought his gold-headed cane down with unwonted 
emphasis on the brick pavement as he asserted 
his determination to abide by his compact. 

On his way down town he met the landlord. 

“ Good-morning, Doctor ! Have you been to see 
our patient .? ” 

“Yes; and she is improving rapidly. By the 
way. Miss Patience is a remarkable young woman. 


A FRIEND MADE. 


29 


And she is a regular graduate of a medical college ; 
she thinks of opening an office here, and I have 
promised to speak a good word for her. I hope if 
your wife or children need to call in a physician 
you will give her a fair trial,” said the doctor. He 
was going to carry out his promise so unexpectedly 
made. 

The landlord laughed boisterously. 

“ Nothing like speaking in season. Dr. Graham. 
I am a bachelor as yet, but I will mention the 
matter to my wife as soon as I find her.” As the 
man was on the wintry side of fifty, there did not 
seem much prospect that Dr. Preston would have 
a call for her professional services very soon in 
that quarter. 

The news spread, however, as almost any news 
will, in a small town, — sometimes even in towns 
of greater pretensions, — and before Patience Pres- 
ton was known by sight to the people of Eagle’s 
Mere it was well understood that she was a woman 
doctor,” and was to take up her abode in that 
mountain town. 


CHAPTER IV. 


EAGLE S MERE. 



RS. PRESTON rallied very slowly. She 


seemed like a woman who had no incentive 


to make any effort to get well. Or rather, it was 
as if it would be much easier for her to slip out 
of life than to take up again its duties and its 
burdens. But she never complained ; she was 
sweet and thoughtful towards her constant nurse 
and companion, Patience, who, on her part, was 
untiring in her devotion. • 

“Patience,” said Mrs. Preston one morning, “it 
is a beautiful bright day, and you ought to go out 
for a walk. You have been shut up too long with 
me ; and, if you are going to rent an office here, 
you might look around for a suitable place this 
morning.” 

“ I wish you were able to go out with me, 
mother.” 

“ Don’t you think I soon will be ? ” 


30 


eagle’s mere. 


31 


Patience stooped down to kiss her mother’s pale 
cheek, and answered softly, — 

“ Yes ; if you will only try.” 

“ And, Patience, while you are out you might 
call at the post-office.” 

“ It is not worth while, mother. No one knows 
we are here.” 

“ Did you not write while I was so ill ? ” 

“ No, mother. It would have been of no use.” 

Mrs. Preston sighed, and her worn, patient face 
took on an added shade of sorrow, but she made 
no reply. 

Patience busied herself in arranging everything 
that would be necessary for her mother’s comfort 
while she was away^ then she put on her hat. 

“ Good-by, poor mother! I’ll not be gone very 
long. Perhaps you will go with me next time if 
you try very, very hard to gain strength. For my 
sake, mother I You know how much I need you.” 

She kissed her tenderly, and went out. 

Mrs. Preston allowed a few tears to roll silently 
down her face ; then she seemed to make a sudden 
resolution. She slipped out of bed, very slowly, 
and with much apparent effort. Steadying her 
weak footsteps by the aid of chair and table, she 


32 


eagle’s mere. 


made her way to the wardrobe and found her 
loose wrapper, which she put on. From her trunk 
she produced writing materials and, seating herself 
by the table, wrote a short letter. She directed it, 
sealed and stamped it, and then, after putting it 
out of sight in her Bible, she drew her chair to 
the window and sat down to wait her daughter’s 
return. 

The effort was certainly beneficial. Her cheeks 
had a tinge of color in them, very faint indeed, still 
an improvement on the death-like pallor of the 
past few days, since the fever had ceased to flush 
them. She looked out of the window for the first 
time since she had come to Eagle’s Mere. The 
little lake sparkled joyously in the clear morning 
sunshine. The foliage was luxuriant and green, 
in the highest degrees. In the distance, beyond 
the lake, hill rose above hill, till, as far as the eye 
could reach, towered a purple mountain range. 
Scattered among the near and remote hills, Mrs. 
Preston noted pleasant-looking homes and cul- 
tivated fields. The whole outlook soothed her 
crushed and bleeding soul. 

“ Father, I thank Thee for this beautiful world, 
and for all the abundant evidences that Thou dost 


eagle’s mere. 


33 


care for Thy creatures ! Help me not to distrust 
Thee ; and may I never cease to feel that Thou 
wilt make all things, yes, all things, all things,” — 
she repeated, emphasizing that comforting word 
‘‘all,” as so many of us have done in our direst 
needs, — “ all things work together for my good.” 
She was silent a moment, then spoke again, very 
softly, as if she feared some one might hear her 
whispered words. “Thou wilt make all things 
work together for our good, dear Father! Even 
our mistakes and our wrong doing I If we love 
Thee, — and do we not love Thee, even though 
we have sinned and strayed far from Thee ? ” 

Patience entered very quietly just then. 

“ You dear blessed mother I I expected to find 
you asleep, and here you are sitting by the window, 
and a tiny bit of a rose on your cheeks.” 

“ Thanks to my doctor, and the Master.” 

“ Do you mean Dr. Graham or Dr. Preston ? ” 
Patience ignored the allusion to the Divine Healer. 

“ I mean Patience Preston, M. D. Now tell me 
about your walk.” 

“ I can’t begin to tell you what an odd, quaint, 
old-fashioned, quiet place Eagle’s Mere is. There 
are parts of it that seem transported bodily from 


34 


EAGLETS MERE. 


England ; and if I had been dropped down from 
the clouds into some of these localities I should 
have thought I was in old Chester, or some other 
English town. I found a courtyard, into which a 
narrow alley led me, that was deliciously quaint. 
On one side was an old brick house — a man work- 
ing near said the bricks were brought from England 
— that was once, years and years ago, a hotel. It 
had formerly wide porches, but they have fallen 
from age. There was a wing, or extension, built 
of hewn logs, and a door was open, so that I could 
see a broad fireplace and a mantel of black wood 
that was much higher than my head. 

“ On another side of the paved courtyard was an 
old stone building that seemed to have once been 
a blacksmith’s shop. On the two other sides were 
old sheds and stables. The whole affair is too 
delightful for anything. You must go with me to 
see it as soon as you can.” 

“ Did you see any place that would be suitable 
for an office ? ” 

“ I saw several vacant houses, but you know we 
must consult our pockets.” 

‘‘Yes, dear.” 

“ I asked several questions about rent, and find 


eagle's mere. 


35 


that much depends on location. For some occult 
reason, certain parts of the town were considered 
much more desirable and aristocratic than other 
parts. Rents are high in the favored portions ; 
elsewhere I think they are low.” 

'‘Would it not be well to consult Dr. Graham ?” 

“Yes ; and then our ability.” 

“ But so much may depend upon your location, 
Patience.” 

“ Yes, I know ; but I am a very poor doctor if I 
talk my first patient in Eagle’s Mere to death. 
Now you must lie down, mother.” 

Mrs. Preston improved rapidly after that morn- 
ing, and was soon able to take short walks with 
Patience. She, too, was favorably impressed with 
the quaint, quiet old town, and as soon as her 
strength permitted, she engaged in house-hunting 
with much interest. 

Eagle’s Mere was a typical town in that region 
of country, but was quite unlike any place Mrs. 
Preston had ever known before. Certain well- 
defined but intangible and invisible lines divided 
the town and the people. Those limits and boun- 
daries were as accurately drawn as the equator or 
the polar circles, and the social zones thus consti- 


36 


eagle’s mere. 


tuted were not allowed to run into each other or 
infringe upon each other. It made all the differ- 
ence in the world — or, to speak practically, all the 
difference in the rent — which side of the boundary 
one fixed one’s habitation. In the region between 
the equator and the tropics — the social torrid 
zone, where the dwellers perspired and grew dusty 
and grimy and rough of hand and manners at their 
daily labor — there was often an ambition to get 
into the social temperate zone, the region of the 
middle class. But few of either class were so 
sanguine as to attempt crossing the social polar 
circles ; the atmosphere was too frigid for them, 
and their reception would have been chilling to 
the last degree. 

It would have puzzled a philosopher from an- 
other region to have divined what constituted a 
patent of social nobility in the town, except the 
fact of dwelling within certain fixed limits. To 
the credit of Eagle’s Mere, be it said that wealth' 
had nothing to do with the matter. The people 
recognized the fact that money was vastly conven- 
ient to have and to handle, but it alone did not 
give an ^‘open sesame ” to the charmed circle. It 
was sometimes claimed that education, culture, re- 


eagle’s mere. 


37 


finement, gave one admittance. But while the res- 
idents of that frigid zone prided themselves upon 
their polish, and coolly relegated to their own 
place “those other people,” as they always spoke 
of the inhabitants outside their polar circle, still it 
was quite feasible for a stranger, about whose 
ancestry and antecedents nothing was known, to 
take prominent place among the people who so 
prided themselves on culture and refinement, yet 
to murder the King’s English in the most cold- 
blooded manner. j^But if he bought or rented 
within the fixed limits, and if he observed certain 
proprieties — if he lifted his hat at the proper 
angle, and did not eat with his knife, or allow his 
teaspoon to stand in his cup of tea or coffee, but 
placed it decorously in his saucer — then he was 
generously taken into full fellowship, and was con- 
sidered as good as the best. This was the law 
for the stranger within the gates of Eagle’s Mere. 
For the old residents the law was entirely different. 

After all, it was purely a matter of tradition and 
first family. The social standing of the Eagle’s 
Mere father fixed that of his children even unto 
the third and fourth generation. But if one’s 
father was unknown, and if one boldly located 


33 


eagle’s mere. 


one’s self amidst the best class of Eagle’s Mere 
people, they were not disposed to be too exacting 
or inquisitive. 

This state of affairs had its advantages. While 
it separated the people into classes, it also united 
the members of the different classes, and, especially 
among the refined and cultivated, society was really 
delightful. 

All this by way of understanding how important 
it was that Patience Preston, M. D., should make 
no mistake in locating herself and her office. 

Meanwhile, Mrs. Preston made several quiet 
trips to the post-office, unknown to Patience, and 
at length was rewarded by the reception of a letter 
which she took to the hotel and read while Patience 
was away. Patience did not understand why her 
mother was so restless and feverish that night. 

“ I am afraid you have exerted yourself too 
much, mother,” she said anxiously. “You must 
take some bromide.” 

The drug never was made that would reach her 
case, but she tried to feign sleep, and so quiet her 
daughter’s anxiety. 


CHAPTER V. 


A NEW HOME. 


T last a house was rented, according to the 



J~\_ best light Mrs. Preston and Patience could 
procure upon the important subject, and also, it 
must be conceded, according to the amount of 
rent they felt justified in promising to pay. 

It was a small house ; there was no point of view 
from which it could be imagined either spacious 
or lofty or even picturesque. It was a tiny white 
cottage, with a wing fronting the street, that would 
make a very pleasant office. That must be the 
principal room. Its furnishing must be as good 
and appropriate as possible. It made little differ- 
ence about the rest of the house — at least Mrs. 
Preston thought so. Patience felt quite differ- 
ently. 

“ Mother, if we only had what belongs to you ! 
It really does belong to you, and you ought to 


39 


40 


A NEW HOME. 


have it. How comfortable we could make our- 
selves here if you had the half of it ! ” 

“ Patience, dear, your father’s daughter certainly 
would not have had me do otherwise than I did 
in giving up everything ! We shall be very nicely 
fixed here, I am sure, and quite comfortable.” 

“ I was not thinking of myself, mother ; I am 
young and strong ; but it is all wrong for you to 
have to endure so much. I am not even disposed 
to try to be reconciled to it. I see the injustice 
of it, and no amount of reasoning or argument, 
or even Scriptural quotation, can make me think 
black is white.” 

“ Hear this. Patience ! ” Mrs. Preston took up 
a small book lying near her, and read : 


“ Perhaps, when all life’s lessons have been learned, 

And moon and stars forevermore have set. 

The things which in our weakness here we spurned, 

The things o’er which we grieved, with eyelids wet. 

May flash before us out of life’s dark night 
As stars shine most in skies of darkest blue. 

And we shall see how all God’s ways were right. 

And how what seemed reproof was love most true.” 

“Very beautiful poetry,” said Patience; “but 
how about the practical prose of to-day } I don’t 


A NEW HOME. 


41 


want to wait till the moon and stars have set for- 
ever before I see the justice and injustice of 
things. And what is wrong to-day can’t be right 
when all the suns and moons and stars in the uni- 
verse have gone down for the last time.” 

“No; but there are two sides to everything, and 
we may be better able, after the fogs and mists of 
this life have cleared away, to see the other side.” 
“ And what good will it do then } ” 

“ It ought to make us lenient in our judgments 
now,” said Mrs. Preston, with a sigh. 

Patience was beside her mother in a moment. 
She knelt by her and clasped her strong young 
arms around her mother’s slender figure. 

“ I didn’t mean to make you feel badly, mother, 
indeed I did not. Do forgive me ! ” 

Mrs. Preston kissed her daughter’s forehead. 
“At least we must never let anything come be- 
tween our two selves. Patience.” 

The office was finally furnished, and had quite 
a professional look. The floor, which fortunately 
was very smooth. Patience oiled and polished. 
There was a south window, broad and low, and 
also two east windows. Opposite the south win- 
dow was a low bookcase running the whole length 


42 


A NEW HOME. 


of the room. This was made by a carpenter, un- 
der Patience’s direction, and then she stained it a 
bright cherry color. It held quite a goodly array 
of books, and also had vacant space for many 
more. It was one of Patience’s ambitions to see 
it filled. 

On the other side of the room, opposite the east 
window, was an open fireplace that could be used 
for either coal or wood. This quite took the heart 
of Mrs. Preston, and she planned a plain chimney- 
piece of wood, with side brackets, to stand on the 
mantel. The carpenter was again set to work, 
and when he finished his part of the labor Patience 
took the pine structure in hand and stained it a . 
bright cherry like the bookcase. The old mantel 
was sand-papered till the discolored paint was re- 
moyed, and then it, too, received a cherry finish. 
When completed the result was very satisfactory 
to both of the women 

There was a table in the centre of the room. It 
also was of pine, but stained with the cherry dye, 
and over it Patience put a pretty table cover that 
was a relic of days departed. The chairs were 
common, “ splint-seated ” ones, of various and 
sundry §hapes, but all very comfortable, ^nd 


A NEW HOME. 


43 


these also were stained with the cheerful cherry 
color. 

There were plain shades at the windows, a rug 
or two on the floor, a serviceable-looking lamp, 
and a few papers and magazines on the table. 

Such was the interior of Dr. Preston’s offlce, 
and when finally completed Mrs. Preston and Pa- 
tience were quite satisfied. 

“You can have some plants in that south win- 
dow, Patience,” said her mother, “and a bird to 
hang in it.” 

“ And a respectable-looking old cat to sleep on 
the rug before the fire,” said Patience, laughing ; 
“that would complete the picture, don’t you 
think.?” 

“You can’t keep the cat and the bird both,” 
said Mrs. Preston. 

“ Yes, I presume it would be extravagant for a 
young doctor to start out with both.” 

“ I mean the cat would eat the bird — ” 

“ And then starve to death, mother .? Well, I 
expect it will be some time before I shall have a 
great rush of practice. I think I’ll not need to 
keep an office boy — I mean an office girl — for 
several weeks, at least.” 


44 


A NEW HOME. 


“Well, we are not entirely dependent on your 
profession, Patience.” 

Patience looked at her mother inquiringly. 

“ My child, did you suppose I was quite oblivi- 
ous of you and your needs ? ” 

“ It does not matter about me, but I am glad if 
you have reserved anything for yourself, mother.” 

“Patience, you too have claims upon me. It 
makes little difference in regard to myself ; my life 
is in the past. Yours is before you. For your 
sake I would like to live a little longer, to care for 
you till some one else will take you off my hands,” 
she said, slightly smiling. 

“ Then you’ll live as long as I do. I intend to 
make my own way in the world. I never would 
marry for a home, and I am very skeptical about 
love. I have lived beyond the age of romance.” 

Away back in her early girlhood Patience had 
her sweet dream — the fancies that came to bud- 
ding womanhood. Her knight, as she fondly 
thought him, had appeared to her, and she had 
trusted him entirely and given her young heart 
fully to him. But, by and by, the glamour was dis- 
pelled, and she found her knight an arrant craven ; 
her idol but commonest clay. 


A NEW HOME. 


45 


Probably this experience had much to do with 
her adopting a profession. Perhaps but for it 
she might not now, in Eagle’s Mere, be hanging 
out her modest sign : Patience ^reston, M. D.” 

But there it hung, swinging in the fresh mount- 
ain wind and creaking a little sadly, so Patience 
thought. 

The same day, or evening, the Evening Star, 
which professed to be a daily sheet, but which 
people were wont to say was “ weakly,” had, under 
the ‘‘ New Advertisements,” this card : — 

“ Patience Preston, M. D., offers her professional 
services to the women and children of Eagle’s 
Mere and vicinity. Office No. 27 High Street.” 

The Luminary, which illuminated only once a 
week, held the same card. And now Dr. Preston 
was ready for her life-work. 

While she waited fqr patients she busied her- 
self in helping Mrs. Preston furnish and arrange 
the other rooms of the cottage. There were no 
superfluities, but under the facile fingers of mother 
and daughter the tiny cottage grew to look quite 
homelike and cosey. 

“We may be very happy here, mother,” 

“God grant it,” said Mrs. Preston. 


PHAPTER VI. 


THE HOP, 



'HE Hop was the dearest, most cherished 


X social institution of Eagle’s Mere. It was 
a mild but very pleasant dissipation, participated 
in by the young people and the young married 
people alike. Nor was it a mixed company that 
met in this agreeable manner. Everybody was 
invited, of course, but “ everybody ” meant only 
those fortunate people who lived within certain 
defined limits of social latitude and longitude. ^ 
A Hop was in progress one evening soon after 
Dr. Preston took possession of her unpretending 
office. The orchestra was playing a waltz, and a 
score or two of the young people were whirling 
gayly around the floor. 

Standing by an open window was a group 
gathered to enjoy the cool air, and engaged in 
animated conversation. 


46 


‘THE HOP. 


47 


Have you seen the new doctor, Mr. Dearborn ? ” 
asked a laughing young girl of her companion. 

“No indeed. Who is he ” 

“Didn’t you see the card in the papers last 
week — Patience Preston, M. D. ” 

“ Patience ! Why, that is a woman’s name. Miss 
Alice.” 

“ Precisely. And the new doctor is a woman, 
and a young woman, too.” 

“ Is she pretty. Miss Alice ? ” Mr. Dearborn 
asked the question with languid curiosity. 

“ Indeed, I can hardly tell you. She has flashed 
by me several times on her morning walks, which 
she seems to take with great regularity. I have 
caught glimpses of straight brows, clear gray eyes, 
transparent complexion, a .well-poised head, and a 
figure of medium size. The impression made 
upon me is, that she must be a cultivated and 
very self-reliant young woman.” 

“ Is that all. Miss Alice ? I am interested in 
your remarks.” 

“ You mean that you are interested in the subject 
of them, Mr. Dearborn.” 

“ How delightful to have such a charming creature 
for one’s physician ! Think of her soft, cool white 


48 


THE HOP. 


hand on one’s burning forehead ! I declare, I do 
not feel at all well. I think I am going to be ill ! 
Take me home and send for Dr. Preston.” 

“ It will do no good, Mr. Dearborn. She offers 
her services only to women and children,” replied 
Miss Alice. 

“ What were you saying, Miss Alice ? ” queried 
another young man in the circle. “Did you remark 
that Providence made special provision for idiots 
and infants } ” 

“ I might have said so, but I didn’t.” 

“ In which case Dearborn might have some 
chance ; ” this was the young man’s aside. 

“ So you think Miss Dr. Preston would not take 
pity on my suffering } ” continued Mr. Dearborn. 
The subject seemed t<4 amuse him greatly. 

“ Not unless she takes your extreme youth into 
consideration,” replied the young woman, and Mr. 
Dearborn was silenced for a moment. 

“ Do you never dance, Mr. Forrest ? ” asked 
Miss Alice, turning to a young man standing near, 
who had not taken active part in the pleasures of 
the evening, but who seemed to be listening with 
great interest to the conversation that had just 
taken place. 


THE HOE. 


49 


‘‘ No, Miss Alice. That part of my early educa- 
tion was neglected. I suppose I had not intellect 
enough to learn. But I enjoy looking at those 
who can dance well,” he added frankly, “only” — 
and he hesitated a moment — “ only I think I should 
not exactly like my sister, or wife, if I had one, to 
waltz.” 

“ Quite an old fogy,” laughed Miss Alice. 

“ I admit it ; but please tell me about this Dr. 
Preston.” 

“ I can tell you nothing more.” 

“ Mr. Forrest, my father attended Mrs. Preston 
during her illness at the hotel last month, and he 
says the young woman is charming.” It was Miss 
Graham who spoke. 

“ Your father is well known to be very suscepti- 
ble, Miss Graham,” said Mr. Forrest, smiling. 
“ But if the young woman is a physician, why did 
she not prescribe for her mother herself ? Is she 
a regularly graduated physician ? ” 

“ P'ather said some of the boarders at the hotel 
were afraid the sick woman had a contagious 
disease, small-pox or something, and they would 
not rest till father was called in. To tell the 
truth, he had great prejudice against ‘women 


THE HOP. 


SO 

doctors ’ as he calls them, and he said he was 
almost rude to Miss Preston at first, when she 
coolly told him she was a graduate in medicine 
herself.” 

I fancy he could not be rude to any mortal 
woman,” said Mr. Forrest. 

“ But father says that he came to* have very 
great respect for Miss Preston’s attainments and 
skill, and he is going to do all he can for her, 
professionally, to give her a start.” 

Others were drawn into the conversation. The 
waltz had ceased ; the tired dancers had left the 
floor, and a new set was being made up for a polka. 
But the group at the window had found for the 
moment something more interesting than dancing. 

“ I think it is positively indelicate for a young 
woman to practice medicine,” said a tall, slender 
blonde, whose evening dress was cut as low in the 
neck as the customs of society would permit. 

“ My father does not think so since he has known 
Miss Preston,” said Miss Graham. Evidently she, 
as well as her father, intended to champion the 
young doctor’s cause. 

“ She cannot be a very refined person, I arn 
sure,” said another young girl. 


THE HOP. 


5 


“ My father says she is remarkably refined, and 
cultivated, and attractive. He thinks they have 
seen better days. I mean Mrs. Preston and her 
daughter.” 

“ O, well ! I suppose the poor thing has to do 
something for a living, then. Is it not dreadful.^ ” 

Mr. Forrest’s black eyes flashed. 

“ On the contrary, I think it is admirable ! I 
certainly commend the spirit of this Dr. Preston, 
though I had not heard of her till this evening. I 
think it is just as important for a young woman to 
have some definite purpose in living as it is for a 
young man ; and I cannot see why the qualities 
that we approve most highly in a young man 
should be so objectionable and out of place in a 
young woman.” 

‘‘ Don’t you think it makes a woman so un- 
womanly, so unladylike, to try to take a man’s 
place in the world ? ” The question was lisped 
most affectedly by one of the younger girls. 

“ Miss Graham, does your father think this 
young doctor is trying to take his place in Eagle’s 
Mere } ” asked Mr. Forrest. 

“ I think he is too much of a man to be jealous, 
either professionally or otherwise.” 


52 


THE HOP. 


“ Then it does not strike him that she is trying 
to take his place ? ” 

“Not at all. But she will try to make a place for 
herself in the world, and I hope she will succeed, 
too.” 

“So do I,” said Mr. Forrest. 

“ How dreadfully progressive you are, Mr. For- 
rest ! Do you believe in woman’s rights, too ? ” 

It was the same young woman who had ex- 
pressed her profound belief that it made a 
woman “unladylike” to try to do something for 
herself. 

Mr. Forrest smiled. “ It is not half an hour 
since I was pronounced a ‘dreadful’ old fogy. 
Yes, I do believe in a woman’s right to make the 
best and most of herself she possibly can.” 

The orchestra struck up a lively waltz. The 
young pd)ple found it irresistible, and hurried 
away to take part in it. Only Mr. Forrest and 
Miss Graham remained. 

“Thank you, for championing Miss Preston’s 
cause, Mr. Forrest.” 

“ It was not her cause specially, it was the cause 
of woman in general, and, I might almost say, of 
woman against herself.” 


THE HOP. 


53 


Mr. Forrest was a comparative stranger in 
Eagle’s Mere, and quite unlike the average society- 
young man of the place. In truth there was a 
great scarcity of eligible beaux, and consequently 
the few who did duty in that capacity were smiled 
upon and listened to with an admiring deference 
that the facts of the case scarcely warranted. If 
their heads were slightly turned, and if they were 
conceited to an unusual extent, it was the fault of 
circumstances. 

Mr. Forrest was unconventional to a degree. 
He did not so much aspire to be pleasing and 
popular as to be truthful and sincere. Miss Gra- 
ham could appreciate such qualities. 

“ Have you called upon Miss Preston } ” he 
asked. 

“ No, I have not.” 

Don’t you intend to ? ” 

“ I really don’t know. Perhaps she may not 
care for society. She is an M. D., you know, and 
I presume would look down upon us from her lofty 
height as quite unworthy her notice.” 

Perhaps you are mistaken. She is a stranger 
here, and I presume is lonely and possibly home- 
sick. It is hard enough for a man to be placed in 


54 


THE HOP. 


such a position as she is ; it must be doubly hard 
for a woman, even if she is an M. D.” 

“ I am convinced of my duty. I will ask Alice 
Mayse to go with me very soon.” 

The two girls arranged for a call upon Dr. Pres- 
ton at the earliest convenient opportunity. 


CHAPTER VIL 


THE FIRST PATIENT. 



'HE same evening that Dr. Preston was being 


X discussed pro and con, at the Hop, she had 
her first professional call. 

Mrs. Preston and Patience were sitting in the 
office, reading. They kept late hours, for Patience 
could not leave her mother alone with her sad 
memories at night, when all dark things seem 
doubly, dark and hopeless, and Mrs. Preston never 
could sleep before midnight. 

Suddenly there was a rap at the door, and 
Patience opened it. A small, half-dressed, trem- 
bling and thoroughly frightened boy, with white 
face and chattering teeth, stood there. 

As soon as he could speak, he asked, — 

“ Which of you’uns is the woman doctor ^ ” 
Patience indicated that she was the person 
sought, and asked, — 

“ What is the matter ? ” 


55 


56 


THE FIRST PATIENT. 


“Baby’s dyin’. In a fit. Most dead. Come 
quick.” 

Dr. Preston put on her hat most expeditiously, 
took her little medicine case, and started at once 
with the child. She asked him, as they hurried 
on, — 

“ How old is the baby } ” 

“ More’n a year, I reckon.” 

“ How long has it been sick ? ” 

“ Hain’t been sick. He just tuck and had a fit 
all to oncet.” 

“ Has he any teeth ? ” 

“A few. Pap says more’s cornin’, he reckons.” 

They were at the house by this time, a small 
dingy place in a narrow back street. It was poor 
enough inside, and dirty to the last degree. An 
unkempt, ragged woman was sitting in an old 
rocking-chair with the sick child clasped closely in 
her arms. She looked up vacantly as Patience 
came in. On a bed, in the corner, was a man — 
probably the husband and father — sound asleep. 
The vile odor of whiskey in the room made it 
evident that it was a drunken stupor. Patience 
gathered these details at a glance. 

She took the child and walked to the light. Its 


THE FIRST PATIENT. 


57 


face, she saw by the dim candle, was pinched and 
blue. Its eyes were upturned. Its hands and 
feet cold and purple. 

** Get me a wash-tub,” she said to the mother ; 
but the woman was dazed, and sat motionless. 

“ Little boy, bring me a wash-tub, quick,” she 
commanded the child who had been sent for her. 
She was already stripping off the baby’s filthy 
clothing. 

“ Now bring a teakettle of hot water.” 

Fortunately, there was hot water on the stove 
in another corner of the room, and the boy came 
staggering towards Patience, holding the heavy 
teakettle with his two hands. 

“ Pour it into the tub,” she ordered. Then she 
tested it with the thermometer she drew from her 
pocket. 

“Some cold water, quick ; ” and the boy brought 
it at once. 

Getting the proper temperature, she was just 
lifting the unconscious child into the warm bath, 
when the mother rushed at her with a shriek : 

“Would ye bile me babby — me swate babby .^” 
and she seized it out of the doctor’s arms. 

“ Give me that baby,” said Patience, in such 


58 


THE FIRST PATIENT. 


compelling tones that the mother returned it, and 
sat down in her chair and moaned, — 

“ O, me swate babby ! Me poor babby ! ” 

The bath soon had the desired effect. The 
rigid figure relaxed. The breathing became easy. 
Finally the eyelids quivered, closed, then opened, 
and the spasm had passed off. 

It was sadly evident that the infant was a com- 
parative stranger to soap and water. Its thin little 
form was in great need of a bath, and Patience gave 
it a thorough one, then and there. It was not 
strictly professional, but it was thoroughly womanly. 

“How often do you wash this baby.?” she asked 
the mother. 

“ D’ye mane all over .? ” 

“ Yes ; how often do you give it a good thorough 
washing .? ” 

“ It’s not for a poor woman like me to spend me 
time dippin’ me babby in water.” 

“ I can tell you that you will not have your 
baby long if you don’t keep it cleaner. Now give 
me a clean towel.” 

But such an article was not in the belongings of 
the Murphy household, and Patience was forced to 
use her own dainty handkerchief for the purpose. 


THE FIRST PATIENT. 


59 


‘‘ Haven’t you some clean clothes for this child ? ” 
she next asked. It was already cooing and crow- 
ing in her lap, and evidently much benefited by 
the unaccustomed luxury. 

“Indade, and I was maning to wash some the 
day, but I hadn’t the time.” 

“ Have you a clean sheet that I can wrap around 
it ? It must not have these vile clothes on it 
again.” Patience did not stop to choose her 
words. 

The woman hesitated. “ And it’s not for poor 
people like we’uns to have things spick and span 
like you’uns ; ” then added, ‘‘ indade, I was man- 
ing to wash the day.” The Irish woman had not 
lost her own brogue, and she had added to it the 
localisms of the lowest class. She was a new type 
of character to Patience. 

“ Here, Pat ” — Patience turned to the small boy 
who was standing by the baby and chucking it 
under the chin with his not too-clean fingers. The 
baby was responding to these brotherly advances 
with little gurgles of delight, which gratified the 
boy amazingly — “Pat, run back to my office and 
ask the woman there to send me — no. I’ll write it 
on a piece of paper ! ” And she hastily wrote, — 


6o 


THE FIRST PATIENT. 


“A case for you as well as me. Please send me 
an old flannel skirt, and an old sheet. Will be at 
home soon.” 

“ Now, Pat, don’t let the grass grow under your 
feet, boy.” And away he flew. 

Dr. Preston recognized the circumstances of the 
case in hand. Here was a home that needed re- 
forming, but it seemed a very unpromising case. 

“ What is the matter with your husband, Mrs. 
Murphy ? ” 

There was womanliness enough in the wife’s 
breast — probably even affection also — to lead her 
to try to excuse her husband. 

“ Indade, Miss, it’s not often he’s this way. 
He’s out of worruk — and it’s done discouraged he 
is — and that sinds him to the drink. Miss.” 

Patience asked, “ How do you live when he has 
no work ? ” 

Fortunately for Mrs. Murphy, because it saved 
her from going into embarrassing details, Pat re- 
turned just then with a bundle from Mrs. Preston. 

And Patience did another unprofessional thing : 
she wrapped the baby in the flannel skirt. Then 
she took the old sheet, and, with a few skillful 
snips of her scissors, which she always carried 


THE FIRST PATIENT. 


6l 


with her, she shaped a night-dress for the infant. 
Producing needle and thread from the same con- 
venient receptacle, she basted up the garment, and 
soon had the satisfaction of seeing her first patient 
comfortable in its clean wrappings. The experi- 
ence was probably novel to the baby, but it seemed 
thoroughly to enjoy the unprecedented state of 
affairs. 

“Now, Mrs. Murphy, your baby is cutting teeth. 
It needs no medicine, but you must keep it clean 
and cool. Bathe it every morning. I will come 
in again and see how it is getting on,” and already 
Patience was walking swiftly away in the cool 
brightness of the June moonlight. - 

And thus Dr. Preston communed with herself : 
“Talk of the mysterious dispensations of Provi- 
dence ! To me nothing is more mysterious than 
the sending of innocent children into such vile 
homes, foredoomed to a life of suffering and sin 
and shame. And then ? Well, if what the 
churches teach is true, then perdition ! And the 
churches profess to believe it, but what do they 
do about it ? Stand off at arms-length ; pass by 
on the other side ! ” 

She passed a crowd of young people at this 


62 


THE FIRST PATIENT. 


point in her self-communing. They were chat- 
ting and laughing gayly, on their way home from 
the Hop. 

The lip of the young woman curled instinctively. 
“ What have I in common with them } What is 
life to them but a holiday } What do they know 
of the great, sad, suffering world around them ? 
Better for them, though ; the knowledge would not 
bring happiness.” 

As she swiftly walked past the group, one whis- 
pered to another, — 

“Dr. Preston.” 

“ How dreadful ! ” responded a young girl. 

But the vision of the slight figure hurrying so 
rapidly haunted Mr. Forrest. He took it home 
with him, that vision, and he felt a manly impulse 
to protect and shield one who seemed so unshel- 
tered and unprotected. 

Patience Preston, M. D., just at that time, did 
not feel any need of protection, either human or 
divine. 

Her mother was waiting for her. 

“There’s no money in it, mother, but my first 
patient is doing well, I am happy to say. My pro- 
fessional career is begun.” 


CHAPTER VIII. 


MISS GRAHAM, 



HE next morning Patience went to see how 


the Murphy baby was getting along. As 
she entered the dilapidated old house she was 
much surprised to find a fashionably dressed young 
girl, with a very sweet, refined face, sitting in the 
crazy rocking-chair and holding the baby in her lap. 

Mrs. Murphy was not well enough versed in the 
ways of society to know that introductions were 
in order, so the young people were left to intro- 
duce themselves. 

‘‘Dr. Preston, I believe,” said the girl in the 
rocking-chair, with a graceful nod. “ I am Miss 
Graham, and I am glad to meet you.” 

“Dr. Graham’s daughter! Your father often 
spoke of you when he was visiting my mother. I 
quite envy you such a father.” 

“ Thank you. Miss Preston ; he certainly recip- 
rocates your good will.” 


63 


64 


MISS GRAHAM. 


“Thanks. Mrs. Murphy, the baby is all right 
this morning ? ” 

“Yes, bless its little heart! It was the good 
turn you did it last night. Miss.” 

“ Have you given it the bath yet, as I told you } ” 

“No, indade ; but I was manin’ to do it very 
soon.” 

“ Get the water and let me show you.” 

The baby was lying contentedly in Miss Gra- 
ham’s lap, smiling up at her very amiably. By 
her side was a bundle, evidently of partly worn 
baby clothes. It was plain that she was well ac- 
quainted with the ways and wants of the Murphy 
household. 

“ Pat told me this morning the baby was sick 
last night, and that he went for the ‘ woman doc- 
tor,’ ” said Miss Graham, while Mrs. Murphy was 
stirring the fire to heat some water. 

“ Yes ; and when I started to put it in a warm 
bath Mrs. Murphy accused me of wanting to ‘ bile 
her babby.’ It is easy to see that Mrs. Murphy 
has hydrophobia badly.” 

“It’s an old complaint in this family,” answered 
Miss Graham, laughing. 

“ I hope you have not been criticising the cut 


MISS GRAHAM. 


65 


and make of the baby’s gown,” said Miss Preston, 
glancing at the garment she had so hastily made 
the night before. 

“ Only to conclude that it was a recent importa- 
tion into this house.” 

“ It is quite the modern ‘ common sense ’ fash- 
ion, as regards the pattern. But I made a virtue 
of necessity, and cut it the easiest and quickest 
way. At least it is, or was, clean.” 

The baby was still on Miss Graham’s lap. Dr. 
Preston knelt down by her side and unfastened its 
clothing, and made it ready for the bath. 

“ There, Mrs. Murphy, you want the water about 
milk warm — like this. Put your hand in and see 
how warm I have it. Y ou must not get it too hot 
nor too cold. Now put the baby in the tub. Let 
it sit in the water a minute or two before you be- 
gin to wash it, and then it will not be frightened. ’J 

Already the poor neglected creature was kick- 
ing and splashing in the water with great glee. 
Both girls looked on delightedly. 

There, Mrs. Murphy, see how he enjoys it! 
Now rub his head well, then his body and limbs. 
Don’t let him stay in too long.” 

Mrs. Murphy tried to follow directions, but in 


66 


MISS GRAHAM. 


such an aimless fashion — making a dab, first at 
its face and nearly blinding its eyes with the soapy 
water, and then almost strangling it as she allowed 
the water to run down its throat — that it was 
sadly evident she had never undertaken such a 
task before. Dr. Preston took the case into her 
own skilled hands and showed the mother how it 
should be done. 

Now a clean towel.” But before Mrs. Murphy 
could lament that there was none in the house 
Miss Graham produced one from her bundle. 

‘‘ Oh ! thank you. I ought to have remembered 
the condition of affairs here ; it was explained to 
me last night.” 

** It is a chronic case of nothing clean on the 
premises,” said Miss Graham while Mrs. Murphy 
was putting away the wash-tub. “ It has been so 
ever since I knew the family.” 

Dr. Preston had the baby on her lap now, and 
the two girls were laughing and chattering while 
they dressed it, in the most unconstrained and 
unconventional way, getting better acquainted 
than in weeks of formal intercourse. They talked 
baby talk to the infant, and it answered in charm- 
ing baby way ; and when they had powdered it 


MISS GRAHAM. 


67 


and dressed it in the clean clothes Miss Graham 
had bestowed, and brushed its little fuzz of hair — 
which threatened to be red — they agreed that it 
was a “lovely” child, and went into girlish ecsta- 
sies over the “ dear little thing,” for all the world 
as if Dr. Preston was not an M. D. at all, but only 
a nice, lovable young woman. 

Giving Mrs. Murphy many directions in regard 
to her care of the child. Miss Preston left the 
house with Miss Graham. 

V 

“What is the trouble with the Murphys, Miss 
Graham ? ” 

“Whiskey,” was the prompt reply. 

“I suppose you have many more such families 
in town ? ” 

“ Plenty of them, I am sorry to say.” 

“ Can nothing be done for them } ” 

“The case seems hopeless, Miss Preston.” 

“Yet the churches claim they have a mission 
to just such people.” 

Miss Graham did not notice the sarcasm in Dr. 
Preston’s voice, and she responded, “Yes, we 
have tried to help them ; but our success has been 
very small. Perhaps we have not gone to work 
in the right way or the right spirit.” 


68 MISS GRAHAM. 

'‘‘We,” pondered Miss Preston, quite amazed. 
She had not thought of Miss Graham as being 
identified with any church, but that young lady 
had identified herself with Christian workers in 
the most matter-of-fact manner. “ Well, she is a 
good specimen to meet, I must acknowledge,” was 
Miss Preston’s mental comment. 

“ At any rate, it seems very hard for poor inno- 
cent children to be sent into such families, and to 
grow up with such surroundings,” said Miss Pres- 
ton. 

“ That is so, I admit. By the way, I am sure I 
passed you last night here in front of this house. 
You must have been going home from the 
Murphys.” 

“ Were you in that crowd ? ” 

“Yes.” 

Dr. Preston had to reconstruct her ideas of 
some people right then and there. This Miss 
Graham was not so utterly different from herself 
as she had fancied all those laughing young people 
must be. Here was a girl whom it was good to 
know. She enjoyed social pleasures ; not ex- 
travagantly, but wholesomely : she was kind and 
considerate to the poor ; she had given thought 


MISS GRAHAM. 


69 


and care to serious social problems, and she had 
not hesitated to avow herself a professor of religion. 

They had reached the office. Come in, please,” 
said Dr. Preston heartily. “ I want my mother to 
meet you.” 

“ I must do myself the justice to say that I was 
intending to call very soon. I should have done 
so before, but, I confess, I was a little afraid.” 

“ Of what. Miss Graham .? ” 

“ Of you, or rather, of Dr. Preston. I was foolish 
enough to suppose a professional woman was quite 
unlike other people ; and my fancy had painted 
Dr. Preston very unlike the reality.” 

“ I am glad you don’t find me at all formidable.” 

“ No ; I find you very much like other sensible 
girls, only a little more so ; and, I confess, the 
difference is decidedly in your favor,” said Miss 
Graham, with a merry laugh that showed off her 
dimples to great advantage. 

For Miss Graham had a sunny face, on which 
the dimples came and went as she smiled, and the 
smiles chased each other rapidly over her fair 
features. Miss Preston was won to her from the 
first moment she saw her with the' Murphy baby 
in her arms. 


70 


MISS GRAHAM. 


“ I think people generally, especially young 
people, consider me as a natural curiosity, some- 
thing in the style of Barnum’s bearded woman, or 
the ‘what is it ; ’ I mean in the small towns. Of 
course in the large cities it is an old story to see 
women who are medical practitioners. But it was 
hard for them, at first, to make their way against 
prejudice and ignorance, and especially the profes- 
sional jealousy of masculine M. D.’s. I am greatly 
indebted to your father for his manly treatment 
of me, which was, I am free to confess, quite 
unlooked for.” 

They were in the office now. 

Patience opened the door of the little dining 
room. 

“ Mother, can you come in } ” 

Mrs. Preston entered directly. 

“ Miss Graham, mother.” 

“ The doctor’s daughter, I am sure. She re- 
sembles him very much. I am very glad to meet 
you,” and she shook her proffered hand most 
cordially. 

“ Father often spoke of you both while you 
were so ill at the hotel. I intended making a 
formal call, but this informal one is much more 


MISS GRAHAM. 


71 

delightful. I have been telling your daughter she 
is not at all like the idea I had formed of her.” 

“ Which may or may not be complimentary.” 

‘‘ Quite complimentary, I assure you. I was 
rather afraid of ‘ Patience Preston, M. D.,’ till I 
I met her ; but I find her very much like other 
girls only, I am sure, more sensible, and practical, 
and useful.” 

“ I have sometimes feared that my dear child’s 
profession would cut her off from society of her 
own age. Anything unusual in one’s opinions or 
pursuits seems to isolate one more or less.” 

“ We shall not let Dr. Preston isolate herself. 
The young people are anxious to meet her — ” 

As they would be to see any other curiosity ; 
like the fat woman, for instance, or the Ohio 
giant,” interposed Patience. 

I must admit some curiosity on our part, but 
I assure you it is kindly and well-disposed.” 

“ I suppose I ought to be grateful for such a 
concession,” Patience added. “ I expect to meet 
prejudice, but I hope to overcome it, in time.” 

Miss Graham, while talking, had noticed several 
glass jars filled with nor very ciean looking water, 
standing on the window ledge, in the sunshine. 


72 


MISS GRAHAM. 


“ Pardon me, Miss Preston, but I acknowledge 
a great degree of curiosity in regard to those jars 
of water. I presume they are there for some very 
mysterious purpose. Dare I ask what that pur- 
pose is ? ” 

Patience smiled as she replied, “ Only one of 
my favorite amusements, microscopy.” 

I don’t quite understand.” 

“Those jars contain water from different sources 
here in Eagle’s Mere. This clearest looking water 
is from the lake ; this jar is spring water ; this 
next one holds ditch water ; and this last has in it 
water from our hydrant, such water as we are drink- 
ing every day.” 

“ But what are you going to do with it. Miss 
Preston } ” 

“ Examine it under my powerful microscope, 
after it has stood here a few days,” said Patience. 

“ I have read of the wonders a drop of water 
contains,” said Miss Graham, “ but never saw 
them under a microscope.” 

“ Oh ! then I must show you a drop, or a very 
tiny part of a drop, and see what you think.” 

Miss Preston arranged her microscope, and placed 
a drop of ditch water in a good light for inspection. 


MISS GRAHAM. 


73 


She looked at it a moment and then said, Allow 
me to introduce you to a world of wonders, Miss 
Graham.” 

Miss Graham uttered an astonished, “ Oh ! oh ! ” 
as she saw the strange, fantastic, and very much 
alive dwellers in the circumscribed sea. What 
horrible creatures they are ! There is one that is 
a perfect tiger in his ferocity ; the others are afraid 
of him. Why, he is just eating them up alive.” 

That is a water tiger, answered Patience. It 
is very common in stagnant water.” 

‘‘ I hope there are none in our hydrant water, 
as the idea is not very pleasant. Fancy our gulp- 
ing dozens of those ferocious creatures at once! 
It would never do to let Mr. Murphy and his 
saloon friends have a glimpse of the horrors a 
drop of water holds. They would want no better 
reason for drinking whiskey the rest of their 
lives.” 

I have not examined the hydrant water yet,* 
but hope it is not quite so animated. If you are 
interested enough, I would like you to come here 
in a few days and look at it with me.” 

“ Oh I thank you. What a delightful resource 
you have in such a pursuit,” answered Miss Graham, 


74 


MISS GRAHAM. 


“ And I want to bring a friend to call with me, if 
I may.” 

“ I should be very happy to meet any of the 
young girls you choose to bring,” said Patience 
cordially. 

“ That invitation is restricted to them, is it ? ” 

“ I think no one else would care to come,” 
answered Patience. “To tell you the truth, I am 
not at all a society woman. I have no reserve 
fund of small talk to draw upon. I cannot grow 
enthusiastic over fashion, or the opera, or the last 
theatrical craze. I am a very prosy, practical, 
unromantic person, with my own way to make in 
the world. I am ambitious to make a name for 
myself, not to marry one. I would rather earn a 
fortune than get one by marrying it. You see I 
am not like the rest of you.” Patience laughed 
pleasantly. 

“ No ; I see you are not. The ‘rest of us ’ are 
careless, good-natured, fond of pleasure, and alto- 
gether very commonplace and good-for-nothing.” 

“ I might take your own estimate of yourself, if 
I had not met you at Mrs. Murphy’s. That is 
quite out of keeping with your description.” 

“ Oh ! ” laughed Miss Graham, “ we all make a 


MISS GRAHAM. 


75 


little pretence at doing such things, I suppose, to 
ease our consciences. But I must go this minute. 
Dr. Preston, you are altogether to fascinating ! I 
have made a long visit this morning, and I remem- 
ber a serious promise to mother that I would be 
at home very soon. See what you have done ! I 
shall tell her it is your fault,” and, with a hurried 
good-morning,” she hastened away, 


CHAPTER IX. 


DR. Preston’s methods. 

S an advertising medium, especially within 



her own immediate circle of friends, Mrs. 


Murphy was better than the Daily Star or Weekly 
Luminary. Nothing pleased her more than to 
take her baby under one arm, and to gossip from 
door to door. The sudden illness and speedy re- 
covery of the infant was a prolific theme for neigh- 
borly conversation. 

“ And indade whin it was tuck I didn’t know 
what to do. Its eyes was clane rolled up out of 
sight, and its swate toes and fingers was blue and 
cold. I cuddent sind for Dr. Graham, by raison 
of its bein’ so late at night, and me awin’ him a 
big bill at the same time. Thin I minded the 
woman doctor, and I sint Pat for her.” 

“What did she give him ? ” 

“Nothing at all, at all. She jist stripped off 
his clothes and put him in a tub of hot water.” 


DR. Preston’s methods. 


17 


And was that all } ” 

‘^Wasn’t it enough, the darlint And he was 
smilin’ and crowin’ in her arms before I knowed 
it, almost. And didn’t she sind home and git 
some dacent clothes and fix it up as clane and 
swate as an angel, bless her heart ! ” 

This last item in Dr. Preston’s method of treat- 
ing the case touched a tender spot in the heart 
of every mother. They remembered it. 

It was a bad summer for the poor babies in 
Eagle’s Mere. The weather was unusually hot and 
dry, and much sickness prevailed. Miss Preston 
was assured in her own mind that the water sup- 
plied the town was very impure, and that much 
of the illness was due to that cause. Her services 
were constantly called for by the poor, and, though 
she was well aware that she would never receive a 
penny, she was just as attentive to the child of 
poor Pat and Bridget Maloney as if its parents 
had been millionnaires. 

At first the disease among the children was of 
a mild type, and yielded readily to simple reme- 
dies. Dr. Preston carried on, single-handed, a 
crusade against uncleanliness and intemperance. 
She insisted on much bathing of the little ones, 


78 


DR. Preston’s methods. 


and that their clothing should be frequently and 
thoroughly washed. She tried also to teach the 
mothers how to cook for their families in such a 
way that their food should be healthful, palatable 
and economical. This all was in strict accordance 
with her ideas of professional obligation. 

As the weeks passed the disease became of a 
more alarming type. It did not yield so readily 
to the remedies that at first were efficient. Dr. 
Preston began to be anxious. She could not sleep 
at night, when she was at hom.e ; but after a time 
she was often with the little sufferers all night. 

Mrs. Preston now came to her help. So much 
depended upon good nursing, constant watchful- 
ness and carefulness. The mothers were inex- 
perienced, and could not be trusted. If a child’s 
morbid appetite craved anything many a mother 
gave the desired article of food regardless of con- 
sequences. The medicine was often put aside 
after one trial, because the child did not like it, 
or the mother could see no good effect from it. 

It was a great help to Patience, having her 
mother take the oversight of the severe cases. 
She went from house to house, and the mothers 
looked upon her as one having authority, from her 


DR. Preston’s methods. 


79 


relationship to the doctor, to see that the doctor’s 
orders were obeyed. 

All this was among the very poorest class of 
Eagle’s Mere population. There was not much 
prospect that Dr. Preston’s purse would be filled 
by her self-denying labors, but she had the true zeal 
of the profession, and was untiring in her efforts. 

Meanwhile the disease had become almost epi- 
demic, and the children of the better class began 
to suffer. The old physicians were called in, and 
were kept very busy. They were not as success- 
ful as Patience had been, from the fact that they 
had not time to act as nurses, nor ability to secure 
competent nursing. The mortality among the 
little ones grew alarming. 

A meeting of the Medical Society was held. It 
was the regular meeting, but the time was spent 
in discussing the epidemic. 

^‘Our new doctor seems to have been very lucky 
with her patients,” said Dr. Graham. 

I reckon she is a right good nurse for the 
babies,” said Dr. Moorhead, with a sneer. He 
was not one of the progressives. 

Well, if nursing saves the patients, what more 
do you want ? ” retorted Dr. Graham. 


8o 


DR. PRESTON^S METHODS. 


^‘I want the people who nurse called nurses, 
not doctors,” was the reply. 

“ Do you know anything personally or profes- 
sionally of this young woman. Dr. Moorhead ? ” 

“No, and I don’t want to. She is entirely out 
of her sphere when she advertises herself as a 
doctor. She unsexes herself in doing it. She 
may have a smattering of medical knowledge, — I 
can’t say as to that, — but I have no patience with 
her pretences. I must say, the idea of women 
setting up to practice medicine is all wrong.” 

“Well, I confess to being as much prejudiced 
as yourself till I met Miss Preston, or rather Dr. 
Preston. But I was forced to admit that she was 
at least as well read as myself. Of course she 
lacks age and experience, but she has the theory 
all right. I would trust her diagnosis of a case as 
much as I would my own, and I should have great 
confidence in her ability to prescribe the best 
remedies. Her mother was very ill indeed, but 
she conducted the case with the skill of a veteran.” 

“We all know that you are very susceptible 
to the charms of the sex,” sneered Dr. Moorhead 
again. 

“ I am not speaking of her personally, but pro- 


DR. Preston’s methods. 


8i 


fessionally. Her ability is not to be sneered out 
of the discussion. Just see how she has managed 
all those cases down in Shanty Town. You know 
yourself how difficult it is to do anything for or 
with those people. They get frightened and send 
for a doctor about as they do for the priest. They 
seem to think if we only look at the children, that 
there is some charm in it, and it makes no differ- 
ence whether they follow our directions or not. 
In fact, I believe they study to out-wit and circum- 
vent us, by hiding the medicine, or professing to 
give it when they do not. I venture the assertion 
to-day, that if you or I had treated as many of 
these sick children in Shanty Town as Dr. Preston 
has done, we would have lost several cases, but 
she has not lost one.” 

“ She has an eloquent defender in you. How 
would you like to be called in consultation with 
her, some day ? ” 

“I should certainly go, just as I would if called 
in with any other physician.” 

And I certainly should, not ! The very idea 
is too ridiculous.” 

“ Please tell me why. Dr. Moorhead, as we are 
discussing the subject pretty thoroughly.” 


82 DR. PRESTON*S METHODS. 

“ Because it is not proper for woman to try to 
fill the place of man.” 

“Assertion is not argument.” 

“The case does not call for argument. The 
sphere of woman is well-defined, and does not 
need re-adjusting.” 

“Never mind, Dr. Moorhead; you’ll hear good 
reports of Dr. Preston, all your prejudices to the 
contrary, notwithstanding.” 

This discussion fairly represents the attitude at 
that time of the men in the medical profession in 
the smaller towns towards women who sought to 
enter the same profession. In the larger cities 
the battle had been fought and won.\ In Eagle’s 
Mere Dr. Preston had to •encounter the full force 
of the prevailing prejudice. 

Shortly after this interview Dr. Preston was 
called to see a child who had different symptoms 
from the other children, yet there was no doubt the 
disease was the same. But the case was alarm- 
ing, and, for the first time. Patience felt the need 
of help. She naturally thought of Dr. Graham. 

“ Mrs. Sullivan, your Tommy is a very sick 
child, and I want to send for some doctor to con- 
sult with. Shall I send for Dr. Graham ? ” 


DR. Preston’s methods. 


^3 


“ Oh ! me Tommy, me Tommy ! Is he dyin’ ? ” 

“Now be quiet, Mrs. Sullivan. Tommy is not 
dying, and we don’t want him to die ; that is why 
I want to send for Dr. Graham. You know two 
heads are better than one.” 

“ And would ye as soon sind for Dr. Moorhead ? 
He doctored me old man once.” 

Of course Patience had no objection. Dr. Moor- 
•head was sent for, and came. He had not under- 
stood that Dr. Preston was in charge of the case. 
Probably Mr. Sullivan considered it politic not to 
mention her at all. 

As he came in he saw a self-possessed, intelli- 
gent, refined-looking young woman standing by 
the rude bed. She was bathing the child’s fevered 
face, and fanning him at the same time. Dr. 
Preston’s appearance was not in the least like the 
picture his fancy had painted, so he smiled blandly 
at the young woman, after a polite bow, and cour- 
teously asked, — 

“ Who is the attending physician ? ” 

“ I am.” Spoken in the most natural way. 

Here was a predicament ! Dr. Moorhead had 
positively said he would not consult with any 
“ woman doctor,” and particularly not with this 


84 


DR. Preston’s methods. 


one. Should he take up his hat and leave He 
glanced at Patience from under his shaggy eye- 
brows. She did not seem at all unsexed. Her 
manner was very gentle and womanly. She was 
dressed in a quiet but decidedly becoming style. 
When he had reached this point in his cogitations 
she looked him directly in the face with her frank 
gray eyes. There Was something winning — even 
compelling — in the look. Dr. Moorhead was 
conquered. 

He asked a history of the case, which she gave 
in a plain, intelligent way. She told him of the 
symptoms that alarmed her, and gave her own 
opinion of the child’s condition, but added mod- 
estly, — 

“ I felt that the gravity of the case required 
counsel, and I am glad to have the benefit of your 
experience in treating it.” 

They consulted together until Dr. Moorhead 
entirely forgot his prejudices — forgot even that 
Dr. Preston was a woman — and he talked with her 
as freely as he would have done with Dr. Graham. 

Dr. Preston proposed the use of a certain 
remedy. “ It is an experiment I did not quite 
like to take the responsibility of trying without 


DR. Preston’s methods. 


85 


advice, but it seems to me the best thing to be 
done.” 

Dr. Moorhead acquiesced, and they gave the 
medicine, then sat by the bed and watched the 
effect. Patience still fanned the child, and her 
eyes never wandered from his face. The silence 
of the night was unbroken except by poor Tommy’s 
labored breathing. Gradually this grew more quiet. 
Patience put down her ear and listened. Her fin- 
ger was on his thin wrist. Soon she said, very 
quietly, to the mother who was crouching on the 
floor in the corner, with her apron over her head, — 
“Mrs. Sullivan, Tommy is better. But keep 
quiet.” 

Dr. Moorhead nodded approvingly: “Yes, the 
crisis is past. That was a happy suggestion of 
yours.” He had the grace to give Patience the 
credit of suggesting the remedy. “ Now he will 
get along, I think, and I will go home. Shall I 
accompany you to your home ? ” 

“ No, thank you. I shall stay here.” 

“Stay here! Miss Preston — Dr. Preston — do 
you often do this sort of thing ” 

“ What sort of thing ? ” 

“ Stay in these places all night 


86 


DR. Preston's methods. 


‘‘I do.” 

“ And you are not afraid ? ” 

“Afraid of what, Dr. Moorhead.?” 

“ Of these rough people in Shanty Town.” 

Patience laughed softly. “ They are all my 
friends. Of course I am not afraid of them.” 

“ But it seems such an unsafe place for a young 
woman, at night.” 

“Dr. Moorhead, I am outside of that class when 
I come here. I do not come as a young woman, 
but as a doctor ; and I am not afraid.” 

She was winning her way. Dr. Moorhead was 
as staunch a friend as Dr. Graham himself. Per- 
haps this was to be her compensation for her un- 
selfish devotioii to those low-down creatures in 
Shanty Town. If she had not won money, she 
had won a firm friend in the profession. 


CHAPTER X. 


‘‘THE YOUNGEST MEMBER OF THE BAR.” 

R. DEARBORN prided himself upon being 



the youngest member of the Eagle’s Mere 


bar. It was in no spirit of modest self-depreciation 
that he referred to himself on all possible occasions 
— and all occasions were possible — as the boy 
lawyer. It was, rather, as if he would say, “ See 
what I am in the very infancy, so to speak, of my 
mental powers ! Now comprehend, if you can, 
what my mind will be when it attains its full 
maturity ! ” 

But this plea of extreme youth did not bring 
him within the list of persons to whom Dr. Pres- 
ton had offered her professional services. If Mr. 
Dearborn, the natty boy lawyer, wished to make 
her acquaintance he must find some other plea 
than that of illness. 

He certainly was curious to meet her. He was 
always curious to meet any one who was in any way 


88 “THE YOUNGEST MEMBER OF THE BAR.” 

out of the common. He boasted of having person- 
ally known nearly all the remarkable men — and wo- 
men — of the country. For so youthful a man the 
list of his distinguished friends was very long. He 
had from his earliest years — by his own account 
— been on intimate terms with statesmen, presi- 
dents, and possible presidents, senators, judges, 
literary people, legal celebrities, play-actors and 
poets. He more than intimated that they had 
sought his advice in matters of moment ; advice 
that he had graciously bestowed, and for which he 
was held in undying regard by the recipients. 

At that particular time no president or supreme 
judge was honoring himself by a stay in Eagle’s 
Mere, so Mr. Dearborn had time that he could 
devote to Dr. Preston. He desired to know her 
as a woman, and as a remarkable and unusual 
type of woman. 

Mr. Dearborn quite prided himself, also, upon 
the grace with which he could unbend from the 
stern pursuit of the law and make himself fascina- 
ting to womankind. This was another of the pleas- 
ant traits of his remarkable character. In fact, 
Mr. Dearborn’s list of conquests in this direction 
was as long as his list of distinguished friends. 


‘^THE YOUNGEST MEMBER OF THE BAR.” 89 


He must have begun his havoc among female 
hearts in his cradle. 

Dr. Preston sat in her office, one evening. She 
was reading up on the treatment of the epidemic 
that was raging among the children of Eagle’s 
Mere, She had been out all day, and had come 
home not only tired, but very anxious in regard to 
one of her patients. 

The door-bell was rung ; not timidly, as the 
poor people who so often called for her were in the 
habit of ringing it, but in a loud, self-asserting 
way. Mrs. Preston opened the door. 

A youthful-looking, small figure, with a very tall 
hat, which he gracefully removed, stood before her. 

“ Is Dr. Preston in ? ” 

“ She is. Will you come in ? ” 

Hat in hand, he entered the office. 

“ Miss Preston — Dr. Preston — I believe ? ” 

“Yes,” very coolly. 

“ My name is Dearborn. I have been promising 
myself- the pleasure of calling upon you for some 
time,” seating himself with great complacency. It 
did not occur to him that his visit could be inop- 
portune or unwelcome. 

“ I suppose you are quite busy. Dr. Preston ? ” 


go ‘‘ THE YOUNGEST MEMBER OF THE BAR.” 

I am. ” She almost added, ‘‘Too busy to waste 
my time on you.” But she refrained. 

“ I hear there is a great deal of illness among 
the children, especially of the poorer classes.” 

“ Yes,” very curtly. 

“ Have you tried the new remedy that is so 
much used now in such diseases } My friend. 
Dr. Hamilton of New York, told me he was almost 
performing miracles with the medicine.” 

“ May I ask what is the name of this wonderful 
new remedy ? ” There was a little incredulity in 
her tone. 

“ Eucalyptus. It is from an Australian tree.” 

“ But that is an old remedy, Mr. Dearborn.” 

Nothing daunted, he replied: “Yes; in some 
forms. But this is quite a new combination of 
Eucalyptus with other remedies. Dr. Agnew tells 
me it is almost infallible.” 

Miss Preston began to comprehend the young 
man. He was evidently ambitious to be consid- 
ered a walking encyclopaedia, and she determined 
to draw him out. 

“ Indeed ! I am so glad to hear of it. Can you 
tell me something more in regard to it.^* ” 

One of Mr, Dearborn’s amiable peculiarities was 


“the youngest member of the bar." 91 


that he often mistook his active imagination, or 
the products of it, for accurate facts. He never 
hesitated to draw upon it in any emergency, and 
he did so with most unblushing self-assurance. So 
now he was at no loss. 

“ Let me see : Dr. Mitchell, Weir Mitchell of 
Philadelphia — you must know of him, Miss Pres- 
ton ? — Dr. Mitchell was telling me about it, not 
long ago, and he said it was a combination with 
some of the bromides. But I really was not paying 
close attention to what he said " 

Considering that he had sufficiently impressed 
Miss Preston in the line of medicine, he branched 
off in another direction. 

“ How do you like our little town. Miss Preston " 
“ I find it very pleasant." « 

“ People who travel consider the scenery un- 
equalled. For myself, I have never seen anything, 
even in Switzerland, that excels the scenery in our 
immediate vicinity, either in grandeur or beauty." 

Mr. Dearborn could truthfully say that, as he 
had never trusted his precious self to the mercy 
of the briny ocean. Patience suspected as much, 
but her face wore an aspect of implicit confidence 
and unbounded interest in the youth’s statements, 


92 “THE YOUNGEST MEMBER OF THE BAR." 

“ The lake is very beautiful,” she suggested. 

“ Yes ; a very diamond on the mountain’s brow, 
Miss Preston. People rave about Lake Como; I 
assure you. Eagle’s Mere is worth journeying twice 
as far to see.” 

“ Indeed ! How happy to have so much beauty 
and grandeur at our front door,” she replied. 
“ Fortune certainly favored me when she directed 
my steps to this remarkable place.” There was 
not a suspicion of sarcasm or insincerity in her 
tones. She seemed to have accepted Mr. Dear- 
born’s unqualified praise of the locality as well 
deserved. 

Mr. Dearborn was immensely flattered by her 
air of attention and interest. 

“You must really allow me to show you some 
of the choice bits of landscape around here. Will 
you kindly permit me to accompany you on a drive 
some pleasant evening very soon ? ” 

This was going a little too far on first acquaint- 
ance, and Patience replied, — 

“You must remember my time is not my own. 
I am liable to be called for at any hour, and I do 
not dare absent myself from my office for any 
length of time. I am quite devoted to my profes- 


*^THE YOUNGEST MEMBER OF THE BAR.** 93 


sion, Mr. Dearborn, both as a matter of interest 
and duty.’* 

“ Of interest and principle, one might say.” 

Yes ; if one was anxious to make a very poor 
pun, Mr. Dearborn.” 

“ It is a poor pun, I confess. It is not original.” 

“ I thought not,” answered Patience, with an 
air that implied, “ anything that originates with 
Mr. Dearborn could not fail to be good.” He was 
susceptible to that kind of flattery. 

“ I see you are very literary. Miss Preston,” 
pointing to the pile of books on the table before 
her. May I ask what you are reading ? ” 

Oh ! certainly. This is an old volume of ‘ Mate- 
ria Medica ’ ; this is ‘ Diseases of Children ’ ; this 
brilliantly illuminated book is a fine edition of 
‘ Comparative Anatomy ’ ; this is the ‘ United 
States Dispensatory.* You see my reading at 
present is in the line of my profession.” 

“Which is quite right and proper. I suppose 
you' take the various medical journals ^ ** 

“ Several.” 

“To my mind, the best conducted of them 
all. Miss Preston, is the ‘ Surgical and Medical 
Reporter.’ I get quite absorbed in its pages some- 


94 THE YOUNGEST MEMBER OF THE BAr/’ 

times. There was a very interesting case of heart 
disease reported in it not long ago. It was ex- 
tremely curious.” 

“ Did you feel any symptoms of heart disease 
yourself after reading it, Mr. Dearborn } That 
is the usual effect upon the non-professional 
reader.” 

“ Indeed ! I am quite heart-whole, as yet,” with 
a glance that was intended to be very telling. 

“ How dreadful ! ” laughed Patience. “ Another 
instance of the hard-heartedness of your sex.” 
Patience added mentally, “And soft-heartedness.” 

Such a tribute to his manhood pleased him 
precisely. “ I am bound to confess I have seen 
so much female loveliness that I am growing very 
critical. But, if you can believe it, I was once 
unusually susceptible.” 

“ You must have been quite young then ? ” 

“Yes ; and I am still young.” 

“ So young, and yet so steeled against all our 
charms ! ” responded Patience. 

“ Do not say ‘ our’ charms. Miss Preston ! Please 
do not include yourself in the number of those 
against whose loveliness I am proof.” 

He rose as if to leave. “ I have had a most 


“THE YOUNGEST MEMBER OF THE BAR.*’ 95 


delightful call. Will you kindly permit me to call 
again ? 

“You might not find me at home.” 

If Patience fancied this would discourage him, 
she was mistaken. 

“Then I should try again, with your permission. 
Good-evening, Miss Preston ! ” 

“ Good-evening ! ” and then he bowed himself 
out. 

“ An insufferably conceited shallow-pate,” was 
her mental comment. 

“ Mother,” calling her in from the dining-room, 
“ you have missed an intellectual feast. Such a 
noble specimen of manhood as Mr. Dearborn is ! 
No wonder I am impatient to attach myself for 
life to some masculine party that I can claim as 
my own personal property ! ” 

“ Patience, my child, the love of a true manly 
heart is next in value to the love of God. I pray 
you may rightly know and appreciate both, some 
day.” 

“ And Mr. Dearborn fancies himself a man ! ” 


CHAPTER XL 


A SERIOUS TALK. 

M ISS GRAHAM did not forget her promise 
to call often upon Dr. Preston. Soon after 
Mr. Dearborn’s evening visit Miss Graham called 
and brought with her Alice Mayse. Patience was 
at home, and was most cordial in her greeting. 

“ I would like to have come sooner, Miss Pres- 
ton, but I knew your duties kept you so occupied 
that I was afraid I should intrude.” 

‘•Well, I am at leisure this afternoon, and I 
want you to take off your hats and make a long 
call. I am just famishing for young company, 
for I have been so absorbed with my sick people 
that I have grown old, and anxious, and wrinkled, 
and gray.” 

“ It would take your powerful microscope to 
discover the wrinkles and the gray hair, but I can 
readily credit the anxiety,” replied Miss Graham. 
The girls seated themselves in the easy chairs, 
96 


A SERIOUS TALK. 


97 


and were soon laughing and chatting merrily. 
Miss Graham produced a tiny bit of crochet, and 
Miss Alice was knitting lace. It was quite an 
event in the Eagle’s Mere life of Patience, for she 
had met very few of the young people. 

.Suddenly Alice exclaimed, “ I am just going to 
confess, Dr. Preston — it seems so funny to call a 
girl ‘ Doctor ’ — but I was going to tell you that 
I fancied your office would be quite a different- 
looking place. This is just as dainty as a parlor.” 

“ What did you expect to see ? ” 

Patience asked the question with an amused 
smile. 

‘‘ I think I expected to see skeletons, for in- 
stance.” 

“ Oh ! we don’t keep ours in the office, do we, 
mother ? We keep them put away, most deco- 
rously, in our closet.” 

“ I am glad you do. It would make me shiver 
and feel creepy all over to see one in the room. 
But we girls must seem very foolish and silly to 
you. Dr. Preston.” . 

“ Why .? ” 

“ Because we lead such aimless, useless lives. 
Now you are doing something every day.” 


98 


A SERIOUS TALK. 


“ Are not you } ” 

“Yes, in a fashion; but what does it all 
amount to ? ” Alice was still the speaker. 

Miss Graham spoke : “While we are girls in - 
our fathers’ houses we can hardly be said to be 
living our own independent individual lives. We 
are parts of the family whole, and all that can be 
expected of us is to fill up the chinks.” 

“A very important work. Miss Graham.” 

“ I know it. I am not complaining of it. But 
we have so little to show for all our work.” 

“ And we do not accomplish anything. I feel 
as if I had no mission in life,” said Alice. 

“How do you occupy your time.?” asked Pa- 
tience, with some curiosity. 

“ We read a little, we sew a little, we look after 
the housekeeping a little ; we dust the parlor 
and we rearrange the silver on the sideboard, and 
change the bric-a-brac on the mantels.” Alice 
did not get any farther. 

Miss Graham went on : “We spend an hour or 
two at the piano, and make calls, and are called 
upon.” 

Patience was becoming interested. “ And what 
do you talk about .? ” 


k SERIOUS TALK. 99 

“We gossip good-naturedly. We tell each 
other confidentially who is engaged, and who is 
particularly attentive to whom, and when we think 
they will decide the important question. Then 
we talk of the mysteries of cooking, and give 
each other our latest recipes.” 

“ You are getting into my province now. That 
is part of my professional duty,” said Patience. 

“ And when everything else becomes stale, flat 
and unprofitable — when conversation lags and the 
weather is exhausted — then we fall to and discuss 
servants. We all are wide awake when we begin 
upon that theme ! We narrate our experiences, 
and sympathize with each other, and anathematize 
the whole class of servants — as if they had 
neither sensibilities nor souls, poor things ! ” 
“Yes,” said Alice, “that is about all we do or 
say. Now don’t you think we are leading very 
useless lives ? Could you be contented to live so ? ” 
Patience answered gravely: “Your circum- 
stances are so different from mine that we cannot 
make comparisons. I have chosen my course and 
I must follow it out to the end. I confess I some- 
times envy girls in sheltered homes, who have no 
care or responsibility, but who can go through 


100 


A SERIOUS TALK. 


life cared for and protected, and shut away from 
contact with the disagreeables of existence. But 
I do not often indulge myself in such feelings.” 

Miss Graham replied : “ If you have your trials, 
you also have your reward. You can feel you are 
doing so much to relieve suffering and misery ; 
and that thought must help you. And I often 
think that a physician sees people when they are 
in affliction and their hearts are tender and open 
to good impressions, and it is so easy then for one 
who has such access to them as you have to show 
them their need of a Heavenly Friend.” Miss 
Graham spoke very quietly and reverently. 

“ Miss Graham, I am not at all fitted to point 
one to a Friend I have not found myself,” said 
Patience. 

Miss Graham looked astonished. “Are you not 
a church member. Miss Preston ? ” 

There was a very perceptible curl of Miss Pres- 
ton’s lip as she answered : 

“ No, I am not. I could not profess what I do 
not believe, nor promise what I cannot perform. 
Are you church members .^” 

“Yes; both of us. Most of our young people 
are,” was Miss Graham’s answer. 


A SERIOUS TALK. 


lOI 


“And you did not mention your religious duties 
at all,” said Patience. 

“ But we try to perform them, though very 
poorly, perhaps.” 

Miss Preston rose and walked up and down the 
room two or three times. Then she said, in a 
voice full of emotion, “ I tell you, girls, if I could 
believe what you profess to believe, and feel what 
you profess to feel, and entertain the same hopes 
you profess to cherish, I would give up willingly 
all my own plans and purposes, and be contented 
to work anywhere or do anything. I cannot 
understand how church members can speak of life 
as being empty and useless, if they truly believe 
what they profess. It is because I have been 
brought into intimate relationship with so many 
professors of religion who had no heart in their 
profession that I am so skeptical in regard to any 
reality in the thing professed. I am sure I could 
not go into any cause in such a half-hearted way. 
I have to put my whole soul into whatever I 
undertake. And if I undertook the salvation of 
my soul by the method of church membership, I 
should surely feel that I had my hands and heart 
fully occupied.” 


102 


A SERIOUS TALK. 


‘‘ But church membership does not save us, Miss 
Preston,” said Miss Graham. 

“No; but the thing signified by your member- 
ship does save you, if there is anything in religion. 
Your union with the church means that you have 
taken Christ as your Saviour, and you dedicate 
yourselves to his service. Am I right ? ” 

“Yes, Miss Preston; and do believe that we are 
not all hypocrites, though we may be very incon- 
sistent and indifferent. But I assure you we are 
trying, in our poor, imperfect way, to serve the 
Master. Perhaps we follow him afar off — I know 
we do — but we try to follow him. I am so sorry 
that my life is such a poor exponent of my faith ; 
sorry that I have done so little to influence any 
one in favor of the truth ; I can only ask forgive- 
ness for the past and strength to do better in the 
future. But you certainly have met some persons 
that even your judgment would pronounce true 
Christians. There is your own mother. Miss 
Preston.” 

“My mother is an angel,” was the quick answer. 
“Except for her I should have no hope in this life, 
and neither faith nor hope in another.” 

“ If religion can do so much for her, it surely 


A SERIOUS TALK. 


103 


can do a great deal for you, if you would try it, 
Miss Preston.” 

“Why has it not done more for other people, 
then ? Why has it not kept some of its devotees 
from sin and shame, crime and disgrace } Why 
has it permitted them to dishonor their name, and 
to break the hearts of those who trusted in them 
and loved them ? ” 

“ They may have been self-deceived, Miss Pres-: 
ton. There was a Judas among the twelve. Even 
Peter, who loved his Master to the death, denied 
with an oath that he knew him. Is the Church 
any worse now ? Did not Christ himself say that 
the tares must grow with the wheat ? I know 
there are many tares, but there is much good 
wheat, too.” This was Miss Graham. 

“Miss Preston, please^>don’t judge all church 
members by me. I am a' frivolous girl, I confess. 
But indeed I do have my hours of serious thought, 
when I feel ashamed of myself and dissatisfied with 
my aimless life. But, candidly, I would not' give 
up my belief in the truths of religion, little as it 
seems to affect my living, for anything in this 
world.” Alice Mayse spoke with unusual serious- 
ness, 


104 


A SERIOUS TALK. 


“Well, girls,” said Patience, “you have taught 
me one lesson. I confess I have thought you were 
very sweet, somewhat thoughtless, average girls, 
with no serious aspirations beyond the day’s or the 
week’s, or the summer’s enjoyment. I yield the 
palm to you. You tell me you are trying to live 
for another world. For myself I must acknowl- 
edge I have thus far in life bounded all my aspira- 
tions by this world’s horizon. I frankly tell you I 
wish I had your feelings on the subject ; existence 
would open out broadly and grandly before me. 
At present it is dwarfed and narrow, for the 
shortness of life appalls me. But I cannot see 
things as you do.” 

There was earnestness in her tone. 

“You will come to the light yet,” said Miss 
Graham. 

The crochet hook had not taken a stitch for a 
long time; the work lay in Miss Graham’s hands. 
Patience took it up. “What is it, Miss Graham } ” 

“A sack, for Baby Murphy.” 

“Christianity exemplified,” said Patience. 

Just then the door-bell rang. 

“ Is Dr. Preston in ? ” asked a boy. 

“Yes.” Patience was at the door herself. 


A SERIOUS TALK. 


05 


“ Pet is worse can’t you come right away ? ” 
He asked the question eagerly. 

“ Directly,” she replied, and he flew away. 

The girls already had their hats on to go. 

“ I am so glad you came. We shall understand 
each other better now, I hope. Do come often.” 
Patience was putting on her own hat as she talked. 
“ I will walk with you to the next corner.” 


CHAPTER XII. 


HOW PET NORTON WENT HOME. 

I T was to one of the most stately and refined 
homes in Eagle’s Mere that Patience was now 
hastening. Hitherto most of her practice had been 
among the very poor; but a few of the best fami- 
lies in the town, hearing of her successful treat- 
ment of the cases of epidemic that had come 
under her care, had been induced to employ her 
themselves when the disease entered their homes. 
Dr. Graham’s often expressed confidence in Dr. 
Preston had something to do in moulding public 
opinion in her favor, and Dr. Moorhead had fre- 
quently told of his midnight meeting with Patience; 
he had the manliness to acknowledge that she had 
shown great skill in treating that particular case. 

Dr. Preston went at once to the sick room. The 
day was hot in the extreme, but inside the shaded 
apartment it was cool and comfortable. A cot 
was drawn to the center of the room, and beside 
io6 


HOW PET NORTON WENT HOME. 


107 


it knelt Mrs. Norton, Pet’s young mother. Mr. 
Norton sat in a chair by the window. 

Dr. Preston’s quick eye saw at a glance that a 
great change had come over the child since she 
left her, early in the morning. Already death had 
set his seal upon her beautiful face. She was 
only seven years old ; a fair-haired, blue-eyed, 
lovely little creature : the idol of her parents, and 
the sunlight of their home. 

How can they endure it ? ” was the first 
thought that came into the mind of Patience. 

Mrs. Norton was very calm. She knelt beside 
the cot, holding one of her darling’s hands in her 
own, and trying vainly to bring a little warmth to 
the fast-chilling fingers. 

Patience knelt beside her and put her own finger 
on the slender wrist. As she did so she glanced 
into Mrs. Norton’s quiet, still face, in order to 
learn if she comprehended the situation. 

‘‘Yes; Pet is going away for a little while. 
Jesus wants her to come where he is. By and by 
he will send for papa and mamma, and we will go, 
too.” 

The large blue eyes were looking straight into 
th(? mother’s face. 


I08 HOW PET NORTON WENT HOME. 

“ Will Jesus come for me, mamma ? ” 

“Yes, darling. He is coming very soon.’* 

“ I know ril not be afraid of Him, mamma, 
because he loves the little children.” 

Patience was mixing some wine and water. She 
raised Pet in her arms that she might drink it. The 
child swallowed it with difficulty. After Patience 
placed her back upon the cot. Pet still held her 
hand. 

“ Miss Preston, do you love Jesus ? ” 

Patience knew not what to say. In the presence 
of death, and especially the death of a child, all 
excuses and subterfuges seemed of no avail. And, 
after all, the question was one that must some- 
time be answered. 

Pet waited a moment and then went on : “I 
hope you do, because I want you to come and see 
me when you get to Heaven.” To her, the idea of 
Heaven seemed very familiar. 

Mrs. Norton’s lips quivered, but her face was 
still serene. Mr. Norton now came and knelt on 
the other side of the cot. Pet gave a hand to 
each of her parents. Patience stood at the foot 
of the couch. 


“ Papa, pray that Jesus will not forget to come 


HOW PET NORTON WENT HOME. 


109 


himself for me. I know I will not mind leaving 
you so much if Jesus comes for me.” 

In trembling tones the father asked that the 
dear Saviour who took the children in his arms 
would come and take this precious little one, also, 
in his own strong, tender, loving arms, and carry 
her safely to her home in Heaven. 

“ Now sing, mamma ! ” 

“What shall I sing, my dearest child ^ ” 

“ Sing ‘ I am going home to die no more.’ ” 

Patience wondered much whence came the 
strength that enabled that loving mother, in sweet, 
clear tones, to sing the hymn to the close. 

Pet seemed satisfied when the last note was 
sung. 

“ I am so sleepy, mamma ! It is almost night. 
I will say, * Now I lay me down to sleep,’ and 
then I will go to sleep.” 

The prayer, that has been lisped by millions of 
childish voices at the knees of Christian mothers, 
and that has trembled from the lips of old age in 
those last hours when age is putting on eternal 
youth, was repeated, in faltering tones, to the very 
end. 

“Good-night, mamma ! good-night, papa ! ’* She 


IIO 


HOW PET NORTON WENT HOM^. 


tried to raise herself from the cot to give each a 
good-night kiss. 

They kissed her, held her a moment in a clasp 
it was agony to loosen, and then laid her gently 
down. Once again she unclosed her blue eyes. 

“Good-night, Miss Preston ! ” 

The afternoon grew into evening. Still the 
fond watchers knelt by the cot, and Patience knelt 
with them. They noted every changeful expres- 
sion on the beautiful face that was fading before 
them. There were no tears shed. There would 
be time for tears by and by. Occasionally Dr. 
Preston moistened the lips of the child with a few 
drops of water, but that was all that love or human 
skill could do to alleviate the last moments. 

The moon, at its full, came up and poured a 
flood of light into the room. The shadows of the 
vines at the window flickered over the cot and 
the floor, but a darker shadow was stealing over 
the sweet face. Not a word was spoken, in that 
solemn hour, by any of the watchers — at least, not 
audibly. Never had Patience witnessed death in 
such circumstances. She seemed to stand on the 
very verge of eternal verities, and the things she 
had doubted and almost despised, came to her 


HOW PET NORTON WENT HOME.- 


II 


soul in that quiet room, and in presence of that 
pure departing spirit, as, after all, the only solid 
and enduring realities. She was obliged to confess 
to herself that the religion that could strengthen 
a little child in the face of death, and enable it 
calmly to go out on its last journey, held in itself 
something she did not possess. 

And even more did the calmness of the devoted 
mother and father appeal to her soul. It was 
not the cold stillness of despair. They were not 
stunned into silence. There was, in both, an 
evident leaning upon One stronger than themselves 
— a trust in an Arm that was not flesh. 

Patience could criticise church members for their 
inconsistencies. She could call them hypocrites 
and deceivers ; but here was something she could 
not criticise. There was no hypocrisy in this 
shaded room, where the angel of death held tryst 
with the departing spirit. Patience almost envied 
the child who was leaving a world that held in 
itself such dark possibilities, and in her inmost 
heart she would gladly have exchanged the un- 
belief and the disquiet and the unrest of her own 
sbul for the calm trust of these parents in this 
hour of their agony. 


II2 


HOW PET NORTON WENT HOME. 


Suddenly the blue eyes, whose light they had 
not hoped to see again, opened wide and glowed 
with unearthly brilliancy. The child seemed look- 
ing far off, into infinite distance, and to be gazing 
upon scenes beyond mortal ken. 

“He is coming for me; his arms are held out 
for me ; yes, I am ready ! ” And she sprang up as 
if to meet the waiting arms. 

And they who watched doubted not that she 
was safely borne across the river and into the 
Heavenly City. But for them remained only a 
white, cold form, wearing on the marble face a 
smile of ineffable sweetness — the smile that 
greeted the coming of Him in whom, with child- 
like faith, she had trusted. 

For a few moments they were thrilled into si- 
lence. Then Mr. Norton took his wife into his 
arms, and carried her from the room, after each had 
imprinted a lingering, loving kiss on the still lips. 

Into that sorrow, so sacred, so subrpi^sively 
borne,. Patience could not intrude. As she left 
the house and went out into ’ the mqonlight, she 
felt that she had met an , argument in favor of the 
religion of Christ tl^at she could neither doubt nor 
gainsay. 


CHAPTER XIII. 


MR. FORREST. 


HE next evening Miss Graham and Mr. For- 



rest called on Miss Preston. Miss Graham 


had asked permission to bring “ my friend, Mr. 
Forrest,” and Miss Preston had readily granted it, 
and had not given the matter a single thought 
afterward until they rung the office door-bell, and 
she admitted them herself. 

Mr. Forrest impressed her favorably at first 
sight, and she could readily understand the tone 
of evident pride with which Miss Graham appro- 
priated him to herself in the little possessive pro- -/ 
noun with which she had spoken of him. 

“They suit each other admirably; I am glad of 
it : Miss Graham is a fortunate girl.” 

Such were the thoughts that passed, almost 
unconsciously to herself, through the mind of 
Patience as she admitted her visitors and was 
introduced to Mr. Forrest. 


13 


114 


MR. FORREST. 


“ It is a beautiful evening, Miss Preston,” said 
Mr. Forrest. 

“ Is it } I believe I have not noticed what the 
state of .the weather is.” 

“ Miss Preston has so much wider a range of 
topics on which she can talk, that she does not 
concern herself about the weather,” said Miss 
Graham. “ I don’t know what the most of us 
would do if that subject was forbidden.” 

“ On the contrary, I am very much interested 
in the subject. For one reason, I must go out in 
all sorts of weather. For another, it affects my 
patients very seriously. But I am free to confess 
that I cannot talk indefinitely on the -topic and 
make myself interesting. It has its limitations.” 

She looked rather tired and dispirited. Miss 
Graham fancied. She was dressed in a plain black 
silk, and wore a cluster of rich red roses in her 
belt — but the flowers failed to give color to her 
pale face. Her manner, however, was earnest and 
cordial. Mr. Forrest formed a fair estimate of her 
character in less than five minutes. 

“An honest, earnest, whole-souled woman, but 
not an entirely happy woman.” This was his 
verdict. 


MR. FORREST. 


15 


“ I sympathize with you, Miss Preston. I have 
not the slightest fund of small talk to draw upon 
in social emergencies. I never get any farther, I 
mean in that direction, than the one thrilling re- 
mark I made when I came in. I trust the bril- 
liancy and originality of the observation struck you 
favorably. However, please step to the front door, 
you and Miss Graham, and take a look at the lake.” 

He opened the door, and the girls went out and 
stood on the porch. Fora moment neither spoke. 
Words were inadequate to the occasion. The full 
moon shone down into the clear waters of the 
lake, and was reflected in a long, shimmering 
golden pathway — it looked like a bridge of light 
on which angels might pass to and fro, if angels 
ever deigned to visit the earth. All around the 
lake the sentinel trees kept watch and ward, and 
saw their own shadows reflected in the water, on 
whose banks their lives had been spent — and into 
which they gazed, by sunlight and moonlight and 
starlight, as if they loved to see their images there 
— as they had done for ages past, and would do for 
ages to come. 

Standing there, in that quiet evening, how far- 
off and insignificant and unreal seemed the cares 


Il6 Mr. FORREST. 

and worries, the pursuits and perplexities of every- 
day life ! 

Something of this was in the thoughts of each 
of the three, but none of them spoke. It was a 
time for silence — and silence was more eloquent 
than words, for each divined the others’ thought 
more accurately than any of them could have 
voiced it. 

And then they saw a tiny light approaching the 
house, which proved to be a cigar, and the smoker 
thereof was Mr. Dearborn. They did not stay any 
longer on the porch. The prospect from it had 
lost its charm — as least it could not be viewed to 
so much profit in Mr. Dearborn’s society. 

Mr. Dearborn, after his usual graceful and im- 
pressive greetings, turned to Miss Graham. 

“ May I take a seat near you. Miss Graham } ” 

“ I think so ; yes, I consent.” 

“ I want to ask you how the church fair is com- 
ing on. I understand you are deeply interested.” 

“ No, I am not deeply interested. I do not ap- 
prove of church fairs, as a rule — but our people 
have undertaken this to help along an object that 
I do approve of, and so I shall assist as much as I 
am able.” 


MR. FORREST. 


II7 


So you don’t approve of church fairs ! I sup- 
posed all young women were in favor of them. 
But I know our most distinguished clergymen 
disapprove of them. Henry Ward Beecher told 
me once he would not allow his people to hold 
one.” 

‘‘Is that so ? His weak and struggling church 
must have been quite at a loss to know how to 
raise funds if he persisted in his determination,” 
said Mr. Forrest. The sarcasm was entirely lost 
upon Mr. Dearborn. 

“By the way, Miss Preston” — suddenly wheel- 
ing his chair so as to face her — “by the way, I do 
not remember to have seen you at church.” Of 
course this was Mr. Dearborn. 

“ I presume not,” was the reply. 

“We men are quite given to absenting ourselves 
from church, but women are generally such con- 
scientious church goers that their failure to attend 
church strikes one as remarkable.” 

No answer. Conversation lagged. 

Mr. Dearborn made another effort. “ Religion 
is beautiful in women and children. It seems to 
suit their pure natures, and gives added charm to 
their loveliness.” 


ii8 


MR. FORREST. 


"‘What do you mean by religion ” asked Mr. 
Forrest. 

“ Why, what is usually meant. Going to church, 
visiting the sick, giving to the poor.” 

‘‘Is that your definition of religion.?” queried 
Patience. “ How comprehensive, how ennobling ! ” 

Mr. Dearborn looked at her. “I am sure you 
must admit there is something in it.” 

“Yes, and no,” answered Patience. “There is 
something that is called by that name which I do 
not believe in. It is a thing of sentiment and 
sham. It is a dilettante affair, that takes pleas- 
ure in dim churches, and cloisters, and chants — in 
clerical millinery, and genuflections ; in creeds and 
confessions. It is a hollow pretence, having no 
heart in it.” 

“You have only given us the negative side,” 
said Mr. Forrest. 

Her face grew tender with emotion. “ Last 
night I saw a little child go away from this life 
into another and untried existence. She was a 
timid, gentle child, who would scarcely have left 
her parents’ side of choice, but she went out into 
the great unknown without a tremor of fear ; yes, 
even with a glad smile, because, she* said, the arms 


MR. FORREST. 


II9 

of the Jesus who loved little children were held out 
to take her. There was something real and tangi- 
ble to her in her religion. I believe in that kind, 
or would, if I could find it.” 

“ I know we are all inconsistent. Miss Preston, 
but at heart we may have more of religious feeling 
and principle than people give us credit for, who 
judge us by our daily way of living,” said Miss 
Graham. 

“ I am not speaking of the so-called inconsisten- 
cies of church members,” responded Patience. 
have used that plea too often, and I am ashamed 
of myself for it. We are all inconsistent with 
ourselves, and what if we are You, Mr. Dear- 
born, I presume, argue a case to-day, and by your 
forceful arguments carry the jury right along with 
you.” 

Mr. Dearborn bowed low, in pleased assent. 

‘‘And next week you will take exactly the oppo- 
site side and argue with even more force, because 
you have received new light on the subject. Or 
else have the promise of a larger fee ! ” 

Again Mr. Dearborn bowed delightedly. 

“ And who shall say you are inconsistent, or, 
saying it, shall blame you ? I certainly do not 


120 


MR. FORREST. 


pretend, in my practice, to say and do and believe 
the same things, precisely, one week that I do the 
next. So I am not longer going to join in the hue 
and cry against inconsistency in church members. 
But what I do complain of — or rather, what sur- 
prises me beyond measure — is their half-hearted- 
ness. If there is anything in religion there is 
everything ; but the little influence it has on the 
lives of most church members, and the little heart 
they put into their religious duties, convinces me 
that the thing they profess to have faith in, is a 
myth.” Patience spoke with great feeling. 

“Miss Preston, are you reasoning fairly asked 
Mr. Forrest. 

She turned to him and said, bitterly, “ Have 
you never seen homes wrecked, hearts broken, and 
lives blasted by those who were active church 
members ^ ” 

“Yes. The tares and the wheat must grow 
together,” he replied. “The winnowing will come 
by and by. To us the tares and the wheat look 
very much alike, but there is an Eye that sees and 
detects the difference.” 

“You are taking it for granted that there is 
really wheat — good, solid, whole-hearted grain. 


MR. FORREST. 


I2I 


sweet through and through — in the field. From 
my standpoint it seems to be all tares.” 

“That is a severe charge to bring against us,” 
said Miss Graham. 

“ I am only speaking of the religious life that is 
in you ; pardon me, I mean in all these church 
members. Socially, many of them are perfectly 
charming, so are many who are out of the church. 
It is not their religion, but their natural tempera- 
ment makes them so delightful, so true, and honest, 
and warm-hearted. But just look at, for instance, 
many of the mothers who are church members. I 
don’t mean to be severe, but I leave it to you if I 
am not truthful. They take far more interest in 
the dancing-school than the Sabbath-school. Do 
you ever see them going to the Sabbath-school with 
their children Yet they profess to believe that 
Jesus loves little children, and that he died to save 
them ! But they never go with them where this 
great truth is taught, though they go to places of 
amusement week after week, most perseveringly.” 

“Miss Preston, you are very sarcastic,” inter- 
rupted Mr. Dearborn. 

“Indeed, I do not intend to be. And I tell you 
the honest truth. If I could see men and women 


122 


MR. FORREST. 


who make these religious professions living fairly, 
and squarely, and joyfully, and with their whole 
hearts up to their professions, I should then be 
convinced there was some truth in them. I only 
wish I could see such people.” 

Mr. Forrest spoke gravely. “ I see my mother, 
every day, living a beautiful, quiet, unostentatious 
Christian life ; and if she were the only one in the 
wide world who did, I should still believe there is 
not only some truth, but all truth in the religion of 
Christ. You, too, have a Christian mother. Miss 
Preston.” 

“ My mother is an angel,” said Patience, with 
visible emotion. “When I look at her I almost 
am convinced of the reality of religion — if there 
were only more like her ! ” 

And not one of the little company dreamed that 
in her lonely chamber, with heart almost broken, 
and eyes from which tears rained, that mother was 
kneeling and pleading with the Master for the life, 
the spiritual life, of her doubting, restless, un- 
happy child ! 

“ But you spoke of a child who died in this 
faith,” said Mr. Forrest. 

“Yes;” and again her eyes grew misty with 


MR. FORREST. 


123 


emotion. “Yes, I saw more in that home to 
make me feel there may possibly be something in 
religion than I ever saw before. I confess it 
frankly. To Mr. and Mrs. Norton, and to dear 
little Pet, there was a reality in their belief. They 
seemed to lean on a Strong Arm. Strength more 
than human was given them in their hour of 
greatest need. But why, if such strength can be 
obtained in such emergencies, do not church mem- 
bers get it for their daily needs ? Such straits 
come seldom. But life is full of places where we 
need help, and guidance, and direction ; and if what 
you profess is true, there should be no trouble in 
getting them. But, so far as I can see, you church 
members worry and perplex yourselves as much 
about these things as the rest of us do ; and you 
don’t seem, as a rule, to be any more serene and 
patient than the outside world.” 

“ I am afraid there is too much truth in what 
you say, Miss Preston,” replied Mr. Forrest. 

“Well, let me say just one thing more, and then 
we will change the subject. If I could feel in my 
heart what you all profess to feel — that Jesus died 
for me, and that my sins have been forgiven for 
his sake — I know I could not do enough to show 


124 


MR. FORREST. 


my love for him. I should count no life worth 
living except as lived for him. I cannot compre- 
hend such amazing indifference to One who has 
loved you as you claim that he has loved you. I 
would be ashamed of such coldness towards such 
a Friend.” 

Miss Preston, permit me to suggest that you 
have mistaken your calling. You ought to have 
entered the ministry ; you preach admirably,” 
said Mr. Dearborn, who began to weary of the 
discussion. 

“ But you know it is ‘ easier to preach than 
practise’,” responded Miss Preston. 

The talk was quite commonplace afterwards, 
and Mr. Dearborn was in his element again. 
After a time, the three visitors took their leave 
together. 

very unusual style of woman,” said Mr. 
Dearborn, removing his cigar from his mouth in 
order to say it. “ I don’t think I would like to 
live with her.” 

“ Indeed ! Had you an idea of making some 
proposition to her, looking toward a life-partner- 
ship ? If so, it is fortunate that you changed your 
mind in time,” laughed Miss Graham. 


MR. FORREST. 


125 


** Yes,” responded Mr. Forrest, very seriously. 
** I thought the conversation would tire Mr. Dean 
born.” 

“Well, it did.” He drew a long breath, as of 
excessive weariness. “ But Daniel Webster ex- 
pressed precisely such doubts and misgivings.” 

“ To you ? ” asked Miss Graham, who knew Mr. 
Dearborn’s peculiarities. 

“Yes ; many years ago, in Washington.” 

“ How long has the sage of Marshfield been 
dead ? ” asked Mr. Forrest. A great silence fell 
upon the three, and then Mr. Dearborn bid Miss 
Graham and Mr. Forrest good-night. 

“ We must try to help your friend,” said Mr. 
Forrest. 

“ I am sure that something in her past life has 
made Miss Preston morbid and unreasonable on 
the subject of religion. She never speaks of her 
history, but her mother’s face is a sad, though 
peaceful one. She has learned to trust ; her 
daughter has not.” 

“ And she tries to excuse her unbelief by our 
* half-heartedness.’ It is an expressive word, and 
I confess I felt her strong condemnation of us in 
that regard as too true.” 


126 


MR. FORREST. 


«So did I.” 

In the little chamber the mother still knelt. 
The moon shone full upon a white face, a bowed 
head, and hair fast silvering in life’s autumn. 
Her prayers were all for others’ needs. Their 
needs were her greatest wants. 

And in the office Patience walked with quick, 
restless step, back and forth, back and forth, and 
questioned the goodness and the wisdom of God, 
who had permitted her life to be shadowed by a 
cloud that seemed to her like the blackness of 
darkness. 


CHAPTER XIV. 


A CLEW. 

T O say that Mr. Forrest found Dr. Preston 
an interesting young woman would poorly 
express his sentiments after that first visit. There 
was something very earnest and intense in her 
nature, that appealed to the same qualities in him. 
He did not agree with her. In many ways he 
entirely disagreed. But he gave her credit for 
being strictly sincere. Besides all this, she was 
so different from the conventional Eagle’s Mere 
type of young womanhood. Whether the differ- 
ence was in her favor or otherwise, it did not 
signify, but it was refreshing to meet a new variety, 
and especially so original a variety. 

It was not strange that Mr. Forrest soon found 
his way again to the pleasant little parlor office. 
Patience admitted him, laying down, in order to 
open the door, a tangle of soft white fleecy wool. 
When he was seated she took it up again, and 


127 


128 


A CLEW. 


Mr. Forrest divined that she was trying to wind 
it, unaided, a task that is somewhat difficult. 

“Shall I hold the wool for you to wind, Miss 
Preston ? ” 

“ Thank you. It is, I confess, somewhat awk- 
ward to manage alone. It has such a habit of 
getting into tangles. But I am accustomed to 
worse tangles, and I usually try to straighten them 
myself,” she said, with a smile. 

“ But you will let me help you in this ? ” And 
he took the wool and put it over his hands in 
readiness for her to wind, 

“ I am not going to wind it, Mr. Forrest. I am 
going to mat it, like this and she proceeded to 
pile the wool, as it was unwound from his hands, 
in a soft mass. 

“ Why do you proceed in that way ? I am sure 
you will have no end of a tangle directly.” 

“ No ; not if I mat it carefully. It is to prevent 
the wool from stretching, as it would if I wound 
it. There will be no trouble so long as I keep the 
right end of the wool in my hand. That is the 
clew that will disentangle all the apparent intri- 
cateness of loops and rings.” 

“What a grand illustration of the way to un- 


A CLEW. 


129 


tangle other intricacies ! If you have the proper 
clew, it is easy to straighten out many things that 
seem hopelessly crooked.” 

Miss Preston looked up. “You are thinking 
of our talk the other evening, Mr. Forrest ? ” 

“ Yes ; if you had only been winding wool. 
Miss Preston, your arguments would have lost 
half their force.” 

“ How so } ” 

“You would have seen that everything de- 
pended upon having the right clew ; and you 
might have concluded you had not found it.” 

Miss Preston’s face flushed. “ I am quite ready 
to accept your illustration, but I despair of finding 
the end that will untangle all the mysteries and 
inconsistencies — no, I abhor that word — all the 
doublings, and twistings, and turnings, of people 
who claim to be living straightforward lives.” 

“ Is it necessary to make the attempt ? ” 

“ Again I do not understand you.” 

“You are not called upon to untangle Miss 
Graham’s snarls for her, if she is winding wool, for 
instance.” 

“ Do you mean it is not my affair how other 
people live and act, Mr. Forrest ? ” 


130 


A CLEW. 


You are putting a strong construction upon 
my words, but they might be susceptible of that 
interpretation,” Mr. Forrest replied. 

“ Then what am I to do, Mr. Forrest ^ ” 

Do about what ? ” 

“How am I to judge if there is anything in 
religion ? I put the question squarely.” 

“Try it for yourself, Miss Preston.” 

She did not answer. The wool was all wound, 
and she was busily counting stitches for a few 
moments, as she commenced a mysterious bit of 
feminine adornment. Mr. Forrest watched her 
with interest. He liked to see her employed in 
this way. It seemed more suitable that those 
white, shapely hands should be busy with knitting 
needles than with a surgeon’s saw or lancet, or — 
horrible ! — dissecting-knife ! Was there anything 
in her profession, he wondered, that made her 
skeptical in regard to those truths that most 
women accepted without question } 

“ Mr. Forrest, how do men live in this place 
“ Principally on good, substantial food,” he re- 
plied, adding, “ Is that what you wish to know ? ” 
“Yes; that answer will do as well as any, if 
you mean mental food. And if you do, the ques- 


A CLEW. 


1 31 

tion very naturally comes up, where, or in what 
market, do they get it ? ” 

“ I think you mean to ask what resources we 
have, in this little place, by which we can sustain 
our mental selves ? ” 

“Yes; you have my meaning. You have no 
reading-rooms, no public libraries, no picture-gal- 
leries, no course of lectures, so far as I know. 
Your amusements, I suppose, consist in a few 
good plays at your opera house, and probably 
many poor ones. Do you ever have really fine 
music there ? ” 

“ Seldom. We cannot afford first-class talent. 
But, I assure you. Miss Preston, we turn out full 
houses to a minstrel show.” 

There was such an expression of contempt on 
his face, that Miss Preston understood him. 

“ It seems to me that life here, for young men, 
is either very narrow or very dangerous.” 

“ Narrow, I admit, but why do you think it must 
be dangerous ? ” 

“ Because you have so little choice. If young 
men are not contented to settle down like staid 
old people, I fancy the saloon and the billiard 
room offer great attractions to them.” 


132 


A CLEW. 


“You are right, Miss Preston. We have a 
number of cultivated, refined, in fact brilliant 
young men, but I see them steadily deteriorating. 
Some are going downhill with wonderful celerity, 
and the final catastrophe cannot be far off.” 

“ Why don’t you do something for them ? ” 

“ What can I do. Miss Preston } ” 

“ You are a church member, and there are many 
of you. Have you not, unitedly, strength enough 
and influence enough to get hold of these young- 
men and save them from such a fate } ” 

“ We ought to have, but I acknowledge that we 
do not even seem to try.” 

“Yet you claim to believe that they are going 
straight down to perdition ; to lose not only body, 
but soul, do you not ? ” 

“ Our church teaches it, and most of us believe 
it when we stop to think about it.” 

“ Then help me find the clew to understand 
such strange and unaccountable indifference.” 

“You are using my own illustration against me 
very forcibly, and I do not blame you for it. I 
suppose we have grown so accustomed to this 
state of affairs that we don’t stop to consider how 
dreadful it really is.” 


A CLEW. 


133 


“Perhaps, Mr. Forrest, my profession leads me 
to look for symptoms of disease rather than in- 
dications of health, and so I am disposed to be 
unduly critical in regard to church members. But 
it truly seems to me there is work for all of you 
to do in trying to save these young men, and if 
religion is what it claims to be, I should think you 
would be driven to desperate efforts in their 
behalf.” 

“ And, as you are a physician, suppose you 
prescribe a remedy for this sad state of affairs, 
Miss Preston.” 

“ It hardly comes within my province. I am 
an M. D., but that does not signify ^ Doctor of 
Morals,’ ” said Patience, laughing. 

The white fleecy fabrication was rapidly taking 
shape under her fleet fingers. Mr. Forrest saw 
that she worked towards a definite end, and worked 
rapidly and surely. There was no hesitation, no 
holding off at arms-length to scan or admire : 
her work went swiftly forward. It was a rev- 
elation of her character, fancied the interested 
looker-on. She would never work aimlessly in 
any department ; her work would all tell. He 
had confidence enough in her to believe she could 


134 


A CLEW. 


suggest something that would help him in this 
duty she had pointed out to him. And he had 
just recommended her to try for herself the religion 
of Christ — he, who was so poor an example of its 
power ! He felt humbled at his own useless life, 
and it was in a very subdued way that he said 
again, — 

“ But you see the condition of affairs so clearly, 
that I think you may suggest something to be 
done in this emergency.” 

“ As a physician, I seldom use what many of 
the profession call ‘heroic practice.’ I try mild 
remedies at first, unless the case is altogether 
desperate. Suppose, for instance, that you should 
try a free library and reading room. I don’t need 
to go into details. You probably know more than 
I do of such matters ; I mean in regard to the 
management of a reading room. Of course you 
must make it attractive. You must have the prin- 
cipal daily and weekly papers and monthly maga- 
zines. You must have popular books in your 
library, but you can elaborate the plan. I only 
throw out the hint. It may not even strike you 
favorably.” 

“ It does strike me favorably. Miss Preston, and 


A CLEW. 


35 


I thank you with all my heart for putting the idea 
into my stupid brain. One thing, Miss Preston, I 
must say. Don’t blame my religion for my in- 
difference to the condition of things here ; blame 
me for not having more religion ! That is the real 
secret of my carelessness. I am grateful to you 
for stirring me up, and I hope I may profit by it. 
God helping me, I shall try to do something for 
him, right here in Eagle’s Mere, and I shall com- 
mence in the way you have indicated. Will you 
help me. Miss Preston ? ” 

“ I will do all I can ; you can count upon my 
sympathy, at least.” 

“ Sympathy in the work I am sure of ; and I 
think you can sympathize in the pleasure of doing 
it for the Master’s sake.” 

I wish I could, Mr. Forrest ; indeed I do. Life 
would not be the enigma it is if I could really 
believe what you profess to believe.” 

I have been a poor illustration of the power 
of religion to lift up one’s life ; but I assure you it 
has a power beyond our dull comprehension.” 

Miss Preston’s face showed that she was deeply 
moved, but she made no reply. That was one of 
her peculiarities. If her sensibilities were aroused 


iS6 


A CLEW. 


she could not control her voice, which would tremble 
and falter and finally refuse to be heard. 

Mr. Forrest rose to leave. 

“ This has been a pleasant evening to me ; may 
I soon come again, Miss Preston ? ” 

She looked him frankly in the face as she said, 
“ Yes ; I shall always be glad to see you.” 

He bowed himself out, and in a moment he 
stood in the light of the clear harvest moon. He 
walked slowly ; he had been given something to 
think about, and under this pure white light he 
saw things more clearly than in the broad garish 
sunshine. His life seemed illuminated — made 
better and brighter as by the new purpose he 
had before him. Yes, it was true, he had not 
lived as he should have done. He had been con- 
tent to drift aimlessly. A few words spoken by 
this clear-eyed, unconventional young woman had 
revealed him to himself. Yet she was not a church 
member ; was not half a believer in religion ! The 
thought startled him ; a prayer involuntarily rose to 
his lips in her behalf. “ God help me so to order 
my life from this time that I may be a living wit- 
ness to the power and truth of the religion of Jesus 
to this soul struggling towards the light ! ” 


CHAPTER XV. 


DISAPPOINTED. 

M rs. PRESTON’S life in Eagle’s Mere was 
not of her own choosing. It was, too, a 
lonely life. While her heart was bound up in 
Patience, and while she would have made any 
possibl^e sacrifice for her, yet in matters that Mrs. 
Preston considered vital, they were not in sympa- 
thy. None the less did Mrs. Preston love her 
daughter, and all the more did she pray for her ; 
but often when she would have spoken, she was 
silent. She did not intrude her own hopes, and 
fears, and beliefs on Patience. She could only 
pray and trust that, in God’s good time. Patience 
would come to believe as she did. 

Yet she trembled for her daughter’s future. 
Sometimes, when she prayed earnestly “ Bring her 
to thyself, by means of thine own choosing,” she 
grew faint at heart as she thought what the answer 
to her prayer might involve. She knew well that 


137 


138 


DISAPPOINTED. 


Patience was no common character ; she was not to 
be influenced by ordinary considerations. Years, 
and trials, and disappointments, and losses, all 
these, perhaps, she must experience before her 
strong will would be subdued. And the fond 
mother’s heart, while it would have gladly spared 
her child every pang, and would have borne all in 
her place had it been possible, yet had strength to 
say, “ Even so, F'ather, if it seemeth good in Thy 
sight.” 

There was another subject of which they never 
spoke. Both felt keenly, but differently. It was 
a sore trial to both of them. Mrs. Preston bore it 
in the strength that is Heaven-born. Patience 
bore it stoically, almost defiantly, but never with 
resignation. Not once did she say, “ Thy will be 
done,” in reference to it. She could not change 
the circumstances ; she was forced to endure the 
trial, as best she could, because it was inevitable ; 
but submission to the inevitable is not Christian 
submission, by any means. 

Mrs. Preston was much alone, and often lonely. 
She went out every day, and her slight figure, and 
face covered with her crape veil, were soon well 
known in the place. She alone made frequent calls 


DISAPPOINTED. 


139 


at the post-office, which Patience never went near. 
It seemed as if, in coming to Eagle’s Mere, Patience 
had severed herself entirely from her past. She 
had no correspondents ; a strange state of affairs 
for a young woman ! She never wrote page after 
page, then crossed and re-crossed the sheets, as is 
the fashion of girls who have so much to say to 
each other that no amount of paper written in a 
straightforward way can hold their confidences. 

But Mrs. Preston made almost daily visits to the 
post-office, and often received letters. Latterly 
several large, yellow-enveloped, legal-looking docu- 
ments had come to her. She took these always 
with a trembling hand. She did not go home at 
once to read them. There was a cool, shaded 
nook by the lake-side, and there she went to 
open these formidable-seeming letters, and to read 
them, and ponder over them, and decide upon her 
answer. 

One day, in the latter part of August, she found 
waiting her at the post-office a letter in a large 
yellow envelope. Her face turned pale as she 
took it. She had evidently been expecting it, but 
now that it had come she seemed to fear to open 
it. She went to her lake-side retreat and sat down 


140 


DISAPPOINTED. 


with the unopened letter in her hands. Her lips 
moved, as if in prayer. She turned the letter over 
many times ; finally, with trembling fingers, she 
tore the envelope and read the contents. Tears 
followed each other down her face as she read, 
but she was unconscious of it. She read it over 
three times, trying to fix every word in her mind. 
Then she replaced the sheets in the envelope, and 
sat for a long time in intense thought. Gradually 
a peaceful look stole over her white face. Evidently 
she had reached some conclusion; and there is 
always peace in a settled purpose. 

“Yes ; it is right, and I must do it,” she said 
aloud as she rose from her seat and drew down 
her veil. She paced slowly up and down by the 
lake-side for half an hour, deciding the details of 
her plan. It was with a look of decision that she 
finally went home. 

Patience no.ted a change in her mother’s manner 
when she entered the office, after an unusually long 
absence, but she hesitated to ask the cause. The 
shadow that had come between them, slight as it 
was, made each careful not to speak of matters 
that might lead up to unpleasant discussions or, at 
least, to differences of opinion. In this way an 


DISAPPOINTED. 


I4I 

unfortunate habit of reserve was growing in both 
of them. Perhaps many people who are considered 
cold and reserved with their friends, have fallen 
into the habit from dislike of referring to subjects 
on which they know their friends do not sympathize 
with them. And often a diffident or self-distrustful 
person is counted cold or indifferent. So little, 
after all, do we know each other, or the workings 
of each other’s secret souls ! 

Thank God for the day that is drawing near, 
when these miserable misunderstandings shall be 
cleared up, and when we shall see as we are seen, 
and know as we are known ! 

If either Mrs. Preston or Patience had been 
negative characters, then neither would have suf- 
fered very much from the lack of perfect confi- 
dence and concord. But each was a positive and 
decided person, holding very positive and decided 
views. Mrs. Preston had learned to bow her will 
to that of Infinite Wisdom, and to feel that “ all 
things” would eventually ^‘work together for 
good,” both to her and to Patience, and in that 
confidence she found rest and peace. 

But Patience had no such faith ; though, in her 
inmost heart, she longed to believe in the religion 


142 


bis APPOINTED. 


her mother professed. At least, she told herself 
that she did. She was groping for the light. She 
was increasingly anxious to find it ; yet, incon- 
sistently, she refused to believe because of the 
failings and faults of church members ! Back of 
all this unbelief was a root of bitterness that 
she must remove before she could find peace : she 
must learn to forgive ; that was her true stum- 
bling-block ; even a greater obstacle in her way 
than any professing Christian’s shortcomings. 

She had, however, a high ideal of Christian duty, 
and if she ever became a Christian she would be a 
whole-souled one. In fact, she could not be other- 
wise and be Patience Preston. Would that time 
ever come ? She seemed far away from Christ 
now ; or, was it only in seeming } Mrs. Preston 
waited, and hoped, and prayed, but with many 
tears, that fell unseen and unsuspected. 

And mother and daughter, loving each other 
tenderly, bound to each other by no common ties, 
yet differing on these points, suffered as only such 
women can suffer. 

Mrs. Preston laid aside her bonnet and veil and 
then sat down in the office. Patience looked at 
her wonderingly. 


Disappointed. 


143 


must start for New York to-morrow morning, 
Patience.” 

“ Mother ! ” 

^ Yes ; I have fully decided to go.” 

“ But you are not strong enough. And it will 
do no good, mother.” 

I feel quite strong enough. Even if I should 
accomplish nothing I should have the satisfaction 
of knowing I had done everything in my power.” 

Patience started up impulsively and went to her 
mother’s side. She knelt down beside her, and 
put her arms around the slender waist, and laid 
her fresh young face beside her mother’s faded 
cheeks. Their tears fell together. Patience kissed 
the thin, pale face, and her mother returned the 
caress, not once, but many times ; as if making up 
for the days that had passed when Patience had 
been chary of these tokens of love. It was with a 
happy heart that Mrs. Preston felt that, after all, 
they had not grown to love each other less. There 
might be difference of opinion, but their hearts 
were firmly welded together. 

It was a silent reconciliation ; but each forgot 
the past and felt that never had the other been so 
near, so dear, so precious, as at that moment. 


144 


DISAPPOINTED. 


Mother, I do not like to think of your taking 
the long, tiresome trip alone. Remember how ill 
you were when we came here.” 

‘‘Yes, I know; but then I was leaving hope 
behind me. Now I am going towards my hope.” 

“ But what if it should be a false hope, mother ? 
The excitement will keep you up on your way 
there, but how will it be coming back, if you fail 
in your mission ? ” 

“ Patience, my dear child, I have put all this 
matter into the Master’s hands, and I only want 
to do my duty, and leave the result with him. If 
he sees it is best that I shall be disappointed, then 
I shall try to be reconciled. O, Patience ! you 
have left off your childhood’s habit of praying, but 
do pray for me and the success of my plan now. 
Surely you have some faith still in a Divine 
Helper. Do ask him to go with me ! I feel the 
need of some one’s prayers, and who, in the wide 
world, excepting you, can I ask?” 

“ Mother, I will ; only my prayers seem to me 
like mockery.” 

Their tears were mingling now like rain. Bar- 
riers of reserve and misunderstanding were melt- 
* ing away. 


DISAPPOINTED. 


145 


** There, Patience, let us be brave. It will all 
be wisely ordered, I am sure. And, whatever may 
happen to me, I want you to know that you have 
'given me the greatest comfort by your promise.” 

“ Then let us consider ways and meanrs. What 
dress will you travel in ” 

“ My old black silk.” 

“You must have a nice lunch to take.” 

“Do you know. Patience, what time the train 
leaves in the morning ? ” 

“ I will look it up ; yes, here it is : 8:35 A. m.” 

“ Quite early, isn’t it ? but it will not take me 
long to get ready. I shall carry only my hand-bag. 
By the way, I think. Patience, you had better get 
one of the Murphy boys to stay here at night 
while I am gone. I am sorry to leave you with 
such poor help as Sally is.” 

“ Do not think of me, mother ! Take care of 
your own self, and don’t worry on my account.” 

The next morning Mrs. Preston started on her 
trip alone, yet not alone. Many persons, during 
her journey, noted the quiet woman with the pale, 
peaceful face. Some gave her the second glance, 
and wondered vaguely by what paths she had 
climbed to such sweet serenity of look and mien. 


146 


DISAPPOINTED. 


One giddy young girl pointed out the black-clad 
figure sitting so still, and said to her companion, — 

“ I do hate to see an old woman travelling all 
alone ! They look so forlorn ! It must be dread- 
ful to be old. 1 wonder if I will ever be as old as 
she .? ” 

Mrs. Preston was not alone, and the young girl’s 
sympathy was quite as misplaced as ungrammati- 
cal. But there seems such an infinite distance 
between sixteen and sixty ! 

Two weeks later Mrs. Preston returned. Pa- 
tience met her at the depot. A glance told the 
story. 

“You did not succeed, mother 

“No ; but I have done my duty.” 

They went home together, more united in heart 
than since they came to Eagle’s Mere. 

“ Did you pray. Patience ? ” 

“ I tried to.” 

With this question and reply they went into the 
little cottage. 


CHAPTER XVI. 


A MIDNIGHT ADVENTURE. 

NE dark September night Mr. P'orrest was 



escorting Miss Graham home from a party. 
It was after midnight, and the streets were almost 
deserted. In the distance they spied a tiny light, 
as of a lantern. It moved leisurely along, and they 
soon overtook the person who carried it. 

‘‘ Miss Preston ! ” exclaimed Mr. Forrest, in 
surprise. 

“ Dr. Preston,” corrected the individual ad- 
dressed. “ I always go out at night as a doctor, 
not as a young woman.” 

“ But it is not safe for you to be out alone so 
late at night. I hope you have not been very far.” 

“Only to Shanty Town,” laughed Patience. 

Miss Graham was horrified. “ Not alone in 
that dreadful place .^” 

“Yes; but I am able to defend myself in case 
of necessity.” And from a convenient pocket she 


147 


148 


A MIDNIGHT ADVENTURE. 


drew what looked very much like a toy, but really 
was a revolver. 

“You don’t mean you would dare to shoot any 
one, Miss Preston ? I should be more afraid of 
the revolver than of a burglar, I believe,” and 
Miss Graham drew away as if in fear that the little 
harmless-looking six-shooter might take a fancy to 
go off then and there. 

Miss Preston put it again in her pocket. “I 
have never needed it, and never expect to need it, 
but it gives me a sense of security to have it 
ready in case of emergency. As to the Shanty 
Town people, I am not in the least afraid of them. 
They all know me, and I have been in many of 
their homes, and they know I have tried to help 
them in sickness and trouble. I feel safer with 
them, rough as they are, than I do on your princi- 
pal streets, to tell the truth.” 

“ But, indeed. Dr. Preston, I think I could not 
sleep at night if I knew you were out on the 
street ” — 

“ Prowling around with a loaded revolver, Mr. 
Forrest ? ” replied Patience. “ I sincerely hope I 
shall not cause you any wakeful hours, though I 
appreciate your kindly interest. When I took up 


A MIDNIGHT ADVENTURE. 


149 


my profession T laid aside the fears that are con- 
sidered so becoming and proper in young women ; 
not that I am at all brave, for I should run from 
danger as fast as Miss Graham, and probably 
faster, but I am not in the habit of thinking any- 
thing about it. I go out at night exactly as I 
would in the day time, if I have a call for my pro- 
fessional services.” 

“ At least I am happy that we have had the 
pleasure of your company so far on our way,” said 
Mr. Forrest, as they reached Dr. Preston’s office, 
and bid each other good-night. 

“ Miss Graham, was Miss Preston invited to the 
party this evening.^” asked Mr. Forrest, after a 
few minutes of silence. 

I think not.” 

“ I should like to know why,” he replied, a little 
sharply. 

“ Perhaps because she is a stranger,” was Miss 
Graham’s answer. 

“ And she will always be a stranger if you 
keep on treating her in this ‘Priest-and-Levite ’ 
fashion.” 

“ Indeed, Mr. Forrest, when I have a company, 
I am going to invite her. I like her ever so 


50 


A MIDNIGHT ADVENTURE. 


much, though I confess I am a little bit afraid 
of her.” 

“ Why > ” 

“ Well, you must allow she is different from the 
most of us.” 

‘‘ I am happy to agree with you.” 

“ Complimentary, Mr. Forrest, but I am not 
offended. And you must acknowledge that Miss 
Preston would seem a little out of place in 
society.” 

“What kind of society 

“ Well, at a hop, for instance, Mr. Forrest.” 

“ That is true. I cannot even fancy Miss Pres- 
ton as the belle of the ball-room. It is an open 
question with me whether we should aspire to her 
level, or she should seek ours.” 

“ Now you are sarcastic, Mr, Forrest. I think 
Miss Preston is living a more useful life than we girls 
are, though she makes no profession of religion ; 
is not a church-member at all. But we have fallen 
into certain ways of thinking and acting, and our 
social views are inherited, and we keep on in the 
same old ruts, so when a person comes to Eagle’s 
Mere who sets aside our rules and regulations and 
lives differently, why, we don’t quite know whether 


A MIDNIGHT ADVENTURE. 


51 


to take them in or not. But we are learning to 
respect and to like Miss Preston, and I think she 
is doing us good.” 

“ And you can do her good, too. Miss Graham.” 

“ How > ” 

By proving to her that religion is a vital truth, 
and that our lives are influenced by it. Excuse 
me, but I am heartily ashamed of my own life as 
having been so little in accord with the spirit of 
my profession.” 

“ So am I, of mine.” 

Here you are at home. I hope you have 
enjoyed the evening, and will be none the worse 
for your late hours. Good-night!” And Mr. 
Forrest walked rapidly away. 

It was not much farther for him to go home by 
way of Dr. Preston’s office, and he took that 
route. There was a light still burning in the 
room, and the shutters were not closed. He could 
see Miss Preston sitting with a large book open 
on the table before her. 

‘‘ She is studying up some case she is interested 
in, I presume. Well, she is a plucky little wo- 
man, but I don’t like to think of her going around 
alone at all hours of the night, even if she does 


152 


A MIDNIGHT ADVENTURE. 


carry a revolver. I belive I would rather marry 
that woman than any one else I ever saw ; but 
would she give up her profession to marry me, or 
to marry any one ? Besides, how would I like to 
hear myself spoken of as ‘ Dr. Preston’s husband ? ’ 
or, if she took my name, it would be Dr. Forrest 
and her husband. I think I should not like the 
position of silent partner in a matrimonial firm. I 
should much prefer to be the recognized head of 
the concern. There would be no difficulty on that 
score if I were to marry any of these Eagle’s Mere 
girls. They certainly do make lovely wives and 
mothers. But life with one of them would be a 
very tame affair compared with a life spent with 
Miss Preston. She would develop all the good 
that I am capable of, and I fancy the evil that is 
in me would shrink from the gaze of her clear 
cool gray eyes. 

What nonsense ! She is wedded to her pro- 
fession, and I have not the slightest reason to 
think that she cares at all for me.” 

And Mr. Forrest went home and went to bed, 
to dream of Dr. Preston ! 

Patience was still reading an hour later. She 
heard a carriage drive rapidly down the street and 


A MIDNIGHT ADVENTURE. 


153 


stop at her door. A moment after a man came up 
the steps and rang her bell. She opened the door 
and recognized the man as one who had called 
several times before to take her to a little patient 
in the country. 

“ Charlie is worse, and I have come for you,” he 
said. 

‘‘Very well. I will be ready in one minute,” 
and the man returned to his horse, while she ran 
upstairs for an extra wrap. 

“ Mother, I am going up the mountain to Mr. 
Boyd’s. Their little boy is worse. I am afraid he 
is not going to get well.” 

“ O, Patience ! Must you go up that dreadful 
mountain road this dark night } ” 

“ Mr. Boyd’s driver knows the road so well that 
I feel perfectly safe, mother.” 

“ Well, my child, I suppose' it is your duty to 
go, but I shall be anxious till I see you come home 
safely. Wrap up well, for it is a damp night.” 

“ Good-by, mother ! ’’ Patience stooped down and 
kissed her mother’s pale face. 

“ Good-by, darling ! ” and Patience hurried down 
stairs. She lighted her lantern and took it out with 
her. 


154 A MIDNIGHT ADVENTURE. 

‘‘I am ready, John,” and she stepped lightly 
into the covered buggy. The top was thrown 
back, very fortunately, as it proved. 

John climbed in after her and they started off 
at a rapid pace. Patience thought nothing of this ; 
in fact, she had so much confidence in John and 
his knowledge of the road, that she gave herself 
no concern about the matter so long as they were 
driving over the streets of the town and the 
good level turnpike. She was wholly occupied 
in thinking of the sick boy and the difficulties in 
his case. 

She was suddenly aroused to the fact that John 
was driving most recklessly, by her hat flying off. 

“ Stop, John ! Why are you driving so fast ? 
Give me the lines, and get out and go back for my 
hat.” 

It was difficult to make him comprehend her 
order. He still urged his horse forward at a mad 
gallop. They had left the straight turnpike and 
were in a road that climbed up and down the 
mountain side, and wound along on the edge of 
a precipice that at times was sheer down for a 
hundred feet. 

“John, what makes you drive so recklessly ? I 


A MIDNIGHT ADVENTURE. 


155 


told you to give me the lines and get out and find 
my hat.” 

A lurch of the buggy threw John so near "her 
that she caught the odor of whiskey. It was clear 
now what made John drive so carelessly : he was 
drunk ! 

Patience revolved the situation rapidly in her 
mind. She had three miles of wild mountain-road 
before her, and not a single house all that distance. 
John was not only drunk, but, fiom the glare of 
his eye, as revealed by the light of her lantern 
which she carefully carried, he was “ ugly drunk ” ; 
just in a condition to be savage and reckless. 

Again she said, slowly and distinctly, “John, 
give me the lines,” and she reached out her hand 
to take them. 

“You just mind yer bus’ness. I’m drivin’ this 
concern ; ” and he emphasized the words by a cut 
at the horse that sent the frightened animal on a 
run. 

The next instant the cold muzzle of a revolver 
was pressed against his temple, and a stern voice 
said, “ Give me the lines ! ” 

He relinquished them instantly, and slunk into 
the corner of the seat as far from Patience as 


156 


A MiDNiGHt ADVENTURE. 


possible. She still held the revolver in one hand, 
while with the other she tried to check the horse 
in his mad speed. It was fortunate that they were 
climbing a hill, and the horse soon tired. 

They were now in a dense forest, with no clear- 
ing except the narrow road, and it was as dark as 
midnight in all directions save for the little area 
of light around the buggy which the lantern made. 
The horse knew the road, probably, but Patience 
did not, and was forced to leave him to his own 
guidance. 

Suddenly the buggy wheel passed over a large 
stone, which nearly upset the vehicle. John, lean- 
ing back in his corner, was thrown out into the 
road. 

“ Good riddance ! ” said Patience, and she did 
not even make an effort to stop the horse, and 
ascertain whether or no the man was killed. She 
went on to the top of the hill, allowing the horse 
to choose his path. 

The next stretch of road Patience had a distinct 
recollection was dangerous even by daylight. It 
was on the edge of the precipice, and was very 
narrow. It was also downhill. The least step to 
one side of the road, on the part of the horse. 


A MIDNIGHT ADVENTURE. 


157 


would send horse, buggy and driver down the 
rocky slope of the mountain. Patience was in no 
mood for trying the experiment. She stopped the 
horse and got out of the buggy. Then she went 
to the horse’s head, led him to the side of the road 
as far as possible from the declivity, and tied him 
securely to a tree. This done she drew her shawl 
over her head, took up her lantern, and started on 
her long, lonely walk. 

It was certainly a relief to leave John and the 
horse behind her. She really knew she had no 
cause for fear, but it was a trying situation for a 
woman, even though she appended an M. D. to her 
name. The forest was so still — preternaturally 
still, it seemed to Patience. The little lantern made 
the trees cast such strange, fantastic shadows, and 
it opened up such dark avenues among the rocks 
and trees ! Patience walked rapidly forward, hardly 
conscious whether she was going uphill or down, 
but only intent on reaching Mr. Boyd’s as quickly 
as possible. Once or twice she was sure she heard 
stealthy footsteps behind her ; she stopped, turned, 
and listened. It was only the rapid beating of her 
own heart. 

She was not timid, she was not afraid ; still it 


58 


A MIDNIGHT ADVENTURE. 


must be confessed that when a great owl near the 
roadside, winking and blinking, and much won- 
dering in its wise head what the strange light 
portended, uttered an inquiring “ Whoo-whoo ? ” 
Patience felt her heart come up into her throat 
just as any woman who was not an M. D. would 
have done. The next instant she laughed at the 
owl, and at her own foolish fancies. 

She could never tell how long it took her to 
traverse that mountain road, but at last she reached 
Mr. Boyd’s house. She went in, sat down deliber- 
ately in a comfortable arm chair, — she was always 
deliberate in her movements, — and then proceeded 
further to vindicate her claims of womanhood by 
fainting dead away. 

It clearly was a most unprofessional thing to 
do; something against all rules, regulations and 
precedents. The sick-room watchers, who had 
admitted her, took alarm as Patience lost control 
of herself, and stood helplessly looking at her as 
she lay back in the chair, till she rallied, which 
was very soon. She was almost ashamed of her 
weakness. 

“ Give me a glass of water, please.” 

It was brought. She drank a little, put the 


A MIDNIGHT ADVENTURE. 


59 


glass down, thew off her wraps, then went to 
Charlie’s bedside. 

“ How is he ? ” she asked of his mother. 

** Easier than when we sent for you.” 

Charlie was sleeping quietly, and Patience did 
not disturb him. 

“ Let him sl^ep as long as he will. It is the 
best thing for him. I will lie down on the lounge, 
and if he wakes up you can call me.” 

“ Dr. Preston, we did not hear the buggy drive 
down the hill when you came. How did you get 
here so quietly.?” asked Mrs. Boyd as she went 
into an adjoining room to show Patience a lounge 
that she could lie down upon. 

“ Did you not hear the buggy .? ” 

‘‘No.” 

Patience said no more. She was resolved not 
to speak of the matter unless it became necessary. 
She threw herself upon the lounge and closed her 
eyes. At once she was wandering in a dark 
woods, where huge shadows of trees and drunken 
men danced wildly around in mad orgies, and 
frightened horses dashed past her, upsetting car- 
riages and throwing the occupants down the steep 
side of the precipice ; then she looked for the luck- 


l60 A MIDNIGHT ADVENTURE. 

less people, holding her lantern that they might 
climb up to the road by its friendly light. But 
when they clambered up they were always John — 
a long procession of climbing, drunken Johns — and 
she pointed her revolver at the head of each as he 
came up into the light, and then men and shadows 
danced together again. ^ 

“This will never do,” she said, as she roused 
herself. “ I will go and watch by Charlie and let 
his mother sleep.” 

She went into the sick room ; Charlie was still 
sleeping quietly. 

“You go and lie down, Mrs. Boyd, and I will 
sit by Charlie.” 

It was growing near daylight. Patience quietly 
put out the lamp and sat down by the window. 
Soon she heard the rattle of wheels on the rocky 
road, and directly over the top of the hill came 
Mr. Boyd’s horse and buggy, and John ! She felt 
sorry for him when, an hour or two later, he came 
into the house, looking apprehensively around. 

“Good morning, John ! ” she said to him, pleas- 
antly. He was perfectly sober now. 

“ Good morning, ma’am ! ” he replied, in a down- 
cast voice. 


A MIDNIGHT ADVENTURE. l6l 

Charlie was decidedly better in the morning, 
and, after eating a good breakfast and leaving 
medicine for the sick boy. Patience started home 
with John for her driver. 

She kept her own counsel, and never referred, 
even to her mother, to the events of the night or 
the morning. But John was not so reticent, and 
he gave a full account of the affair to a crowd 
at the post-office, bestowing unlimited commenda- 
tion upon Dr. Preston’s method of dealing with 
a “drunken fool,” as he styled himself. From 
that time he was a sober man, and a staunch 
friend to Patience Preston, M. D. 


CHAPTER XVII. 


MR. dearborn’s misadventure. 

R. DEARBORN and Mr. Forrest were at 



the post-office when John told the story 


of Dr. Preston’s midnight drive with himself. 
He did not excuse his condition or behavior in 
the slightest degree, and he gave full credit to 
Patience for her presence of mind, her determina- 
tion and her courage. His admiration of her was 
unbounded, and he announced himself as her 
champion from that time on. 

Mr. Dearborn was much impressed by the nar- 
ration. He went to his office and sat down in a 
very easy chair and comfortable attitude, — he never 
could forget, even in the most important crisis of 
his life, to make himself as comfortable as circum- 
stances would permit, — then he critically selected 
a cigar from out his large and varied assortment, 
and, having lighted it, he proceeded to deliberate: 

‘‘Splendid woman, that! Quite out of the com- 


MR. dearborn’s misadventure. 163 


mon ! What a brave creature she is ! Carrying a 
revolver; pointing it at her drunken driver’s head ; 
driving, off by herself after she had tipped him out 
of the buggy — and then taking that long walk 
alone through the forest ! ” 

We cannot follow his thoughts any farther, nor 
know exactly by what course of mental reasoning 
he reached the conclusion, about twelve o’clock, to 
call upon Dr. Preston. He threw down his cigar, 
stood before his glass and gave his whole soul, for 
the space of five minutes, to the proper tie of his 
cravat. That result achieved to his satisfaction, 
he drew on a pair of fresh kid gloves, put om his 
black silk hat, and started for Dr. Preston’s office, 
on glorious terms with himself, and at peace with 
all mankind. 

It must be a very enviable state of mind that 
renders one perfectly satisfied with one’s self and 
all one’s belongings ! Even religion does not have 
quite that effect, for its teachings more than inti- 
mate that one never reaches, in this life, a state of 
such perfection that one can afford to be entirely 
satisfied with one’s self. On second thought, it 
may be rather a comfortable than an enviable 
state of mind. However, define the condition as 


164 MR. dearborn’s misadventure. 

we may, it was Mr. Dearborn’s normal state. It 
never occurred to him to doubt that the world in 
general, and his immediate acquaintances in par- 
ticular, coincided in his estimate of himself and 
his belongings. 

So it was with an unruffled demeanor that he 
rung Dr. Preston’s door-bell. The offlce girl — 
Patience had an office* girl, now — answered the bell. 

“ Is Dr. Preston in 

“She is.” 

“ Please give her this ; ” and he handed her his 
card. 

The girl withdrew, and Mr. Dearborn calmly 
seated himself in a chair and waited. In five min- 
utes or less Miss Preston came in. Her visitor 
arose, hat in hand, and greeted her with great 
effusiveness. 

“ Permit me to congratulate you, Miss Preston, 
on your remarkable presence of mind and courage 
in the affair last night.” 

Patience was surprised and vexed that John 
should have circulated the story. She did not 
want it known. She had no fancy for being con- 
gratulated, or considered a heroine. She answered, 
very coolly : “ Dr. Preston is always prepared to go 


MR. Dearborn’s misadventure. 165 

where her profession calls her. This is a charm- 
ing day, Mr. Dearborn.” 

Her manner, and sudden change of subject, 
almost took away the breath of the youngest 
member of the Eagle’s Mere bar, and quite drove 
from his mind several very neatly turned compli- 
ments that he had intended to pay. If the young 
man’s moral nature had not been so padded and 
cushioned around by self-esteem, he must have 
experienced something like a shock ; but, being so 
well protected, he felt no recoil. 

“Yes, delightful indeed. I called to ask you if 
I might have the pleasure of driving you on your 
round of professional calls this afternoon } ” 

“ Thanks ; I have only to go out to Mr. Boyd’s. 
Perhaps I ought to say up, for it seems to me it 
is uphill all the way.” 

“ The road to Mr. Boyd’s is very much like life. 
Miss Preston. It has many ups and downs,” 
replied Mr. Dearborn. 

“You must speak more from observation than 
experience, Mr. Dearborn.” 

“ Why ^ I am old enough to have experienced 
much. Miss Preston,” and he laid his gloved hand 
most suggestively on his breast. 


MR. dearborn’s misadventure. 


1 66 


“ Nothing serious, I hope,” with a tone full of 
professional interest. “ No cardiac affection ? ” 

“ O, no ! not that.” 

“I am relieved. But, Mr. Dearborn, your expe- 
rience surely has only been of the ascents. You 
know nothing of the falls of life ; you have gone 
up so far I cannot fancy you have had any down- 
hill episodes.” 

Mr. Dearborn was susceptible to this kind of 
flattery, as one could divine after five minutes of 
his society. 

“Fortune has been kind to me, I admit, and 
thus far my career has been exceptionally free 
from reverses. I have had little to do but climb.” 

“ Quite a. modern Excelsior, Mr. Dearborn.” 

“Thanks! thanks!” He bowed impressively. 
“At what hour shall I call this afternoon.?” 

“At four o’clock. I have some visits to make 
near here, before I go.” 

“ I shall be here promptly,” bowing himself out. 

Precisely at four o’clock, he drove up to the 
door. Dr. Preston was ready, and her escort 
jumped lightly from the low phaeton and handed 
her in. Then he seated himself beside her and 
they started. 


MR. dearborn’s misadventure. 


67 


It was a perfect day in early autumn. The 
fierce fire of summer had burned itself away, and 
in its place was a gentle, genial warmth that had 
in it neither memory of summer’s heat nor proph- 
ecy of winter’s cold. The trees were in full 
luxuriance of foliage, but autumn had unfurled 
its brilliant banners in many spots, and hung its 
scarlet on the maples and its gold on the beeches 
that stood sturdily along the mountain slopes 
among the dark pines and hemlocks. 

When they turned from the well-trodden turn- 
pike into the mountain road every step disclosed 
some new beauty. Here and there an opening in 
the forest made it possible to look out upon an 
exquisite bit of scenery. Underneath the trees 
the mosses and ferns ran riot. Miss Preston’s 
educated eye noted shield ferns, maiden-hair — 
that loveliest of all ferns ! — and even the rare and 
shy moon fern peeped up between the rocks. 

But Mr. Dearborn’s soul was not intent on 
scenery or ferns. Even the bright-eyed squirrels 
that ran nimbly along under the trees and fiercely 
scolded the intruders into their private and pecu- 
liar domain, did not gain his attention. A sudden 
and weighty resolution had been taken by the 


1 68 MR. dearborn’s misadventure. 

young man, and such insignificant trifles were not 
worthy of a thought. 

“ Miss Preston, this must be about the place 
where you had your adventure last night ? ” 

“I can’t say, indeed. It was too dark last night 
to allow me to thoroughly identify the spot. I 
hope you don’t ask that question as a lawyer, 
because I object to being put upon the witness 
stand. I could not testify, under oath, as to any 
particular location on this road.” 

“ Oh ! I ask the question as a friend. I must be 
permitted to say. Miss Preston, that the thought 
of your being exposed to such danger makes me 
tremble, even yet.” 

“ I am sorry your nerves are so easily unstrung. 
Have you ever tried bromide ? ” Her tone was 
full of sympathy. 

My nerves are not easily affected in ordinary 
cases. It is the thought of you, of your peril, of 
how dark this world would seem to me now if you 
had lost your life last night, that makes me quake.” 
He spoke in a tragic manner, and probably thought 
for the moment that he fully meant what he said. 

“You must have heard an exaggerated account 
of my adventure. I was not in any great peril. 


MR. dearborn’s misadventure. 


69 


Do not allow yourself to be troubled further in 
regard to it.” 

Miss Preston, will you not permit me to act as 
your escort henceforth through these dark and 
devious ways May I not be your protector ? ” 

The youngest, and, it must be confessed, small- 
est, member of the Eagle's Mere bar fully intended 
to offer his heart and hand in these earnest peti- 
tions. But Patience did not choose so to consider 
it. She answered his questions by asking, — 

‘‘You have a very good practice, Mr. Dearborn, 
I believe ? ” 

“ Yes, indeed ; my income is ample to support 
two persons in the style that I should consider 
due to myself and the wife who should share my 
fortune with me.” 

“Then I cannot for one moment allow myself 
to take advantage of your generous and sympa- 
thetic nature, and accept an offer that would take 
you away so much from a rapidly-increasing and 
profitable business. I must make an arrangement 
with some good, steady, responsible man, or half- 
grown boy, to drive me whenever I am obliged to 
go out at night.” 

It was utterly impossible for Mr. Dearborn to 


170 


MR. dearborn’s misadventure. 


contend against such stupidity on the part of Miss 
Preston. The idea that his offer of a life-partner- 
ship should be understood by her to mean only a 
proposition on his part to act as her driver, was 
enough to jar his sensibilities even through the 
thick padding that surrounded them. After such 
a reception of his advances it was not easy to 
continue the subject. Patience understood his 
dilemma, unconscious as she seemed, and she 
made his way easy. 

“ Mr. Dearborn, please give me the history of 
this region. I know it is historic ground, and I 
am sure you are qualified, if any one, to tell me 
the facts of its early days.” 

Mr. Dearborn’s slight bruises were at once 
soothed by this emollient, so skillfully applied. 
As he could always depend upon his fancy to 
furnish facts, when other resources failed, he was 
able to make a thrilling narrative, though, as veri- 
table history, it would have been as applicable to 
any other part of the country as to that region 
around Eagle’s Mere. But Patience listened, or 
seemed to, with an interest that only made larger 
inroads upon the stores of the young lawyer’s 
imagination. The time spent by Patience in visit- 


MR. Dearborn’s misadventure. 


171 


ing Charlie Boyd was used by Mr. Dearborn in 
still further inventing history ; and he was able 
to keep up the recital till he landed Miss Preston 
safely at her own door. 

“ Thank you, Mr. Dearborn ! I am indebted to 
you for a pleasant afternoon. You have made 
history as fascinating as fiction, and that is more 
than can be said of all historians.” 

And thank you. Miss Preston, for the pleasure 
of your company,” and he drove away. 

In the silence and solitude of his room that^ 
night, Mr. Dearborn reviewed the events of the 
day. “What if she had accepted me.^” he asked 
himself. “ I certainly was too precipitate in that 
offer.” 

Suddenly a thought pierced through all his pan- 
oply of self-esteem that stung him to the quick. 

“ I believe in my heart that Miss Preston managed 
me very much as she did John on the same road. 
She certainly gave me to understand she could 
attend to her own affairs. I am sure now that she 
understood me, though she seemed so obtuse.” 

It was a strange experience for Mr. Dearborn ; 
it would have been humiliating to a more sensitive 
person, or one less comfortably on terms with him- 


172 


MR. dearborn's misadventure. 


self. ' But the young lawyer drew his cushion more 
closely around him, settled himself in it, and said, 
“ Well, I am glad I am not bound to that woman ! 
None of your masculine women for me. What I 
want is — ” And he fell asleep before he finally 
decided what he really did want. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 


A NEW PROJECT. 

M r. FORREST was quite as much dis- 
tressed in mind by John’s story as Mr. 
Dearborn had been, but he did not call to see Miss 
Preston for several days. Meanwhile that young 
woman was exceedingly chagrined that the story 
of her adventure had gotten abroad. She did not 
wish to pose as a heroine, for one thing. For 
another, she did not like to be thought of as a 
strong-minded young woman who carried a re- 
volver and bid defiance to the world. In fact, she 
did not feel herself to be such a character as a 
knowledge of the occurrence would inevitably lead 
people to consider her. 

When she took up the profession and practice 
of medicine she expected to lay aside all foolish 
timidity and false delicacy. She intended to go 
where duty called her, regardless of the fact that 
she was a woman, and so might sometimes be in- 

173 


174 


A NEW PROJECT. 


dined to shrink from fancied or real danger. But 
she was, nevertheless, in every fibre of her organ- 
ization a true woman. She did not crave either 
notoriety or adventure. 

There were times when it seemed to her that to 
be shut in a sheltered home, cared for, loved, every 
want anticipated, every stumbling-block removed 
from her pathway — this would be bliss beyond 
measure. 

But this was not her usual mood. She was 
deeply engrossed in her profession. She loved it 
as a science. The human body, so fearfully and 
wonderfully made, was like a musical instrument 
of marvellous mechanism. Originally, every string 
had been attuned to make exquisite melody, but 
neglect and ignorance and misuse had wrought 
their inevitable effect, till the instrument was out 
of tune, and only produced distracting discord 
instead of divine harmony. Thoroughly to under- 
stand this masterpiece of the Creator seemed to 
her worth spending a life in arduous study, and 
she pursued her investigations with an ardor that 
never flagged. ^ 

The practice of medicine was raised quite above 
the mere struggle for bread and butter. It af- 


A NEW PROJECT. 


75 


forded her opportunities to carry out the theories 
of her teachers. Each case was full of interest, 
and no two cases ever seemed alike. The idiosyn- 
crasies of each individual affected the disease, 
and also affected the acting of the remedies. 

She dipped into chemistry, and studied the re- 
sults of chemical combinations as a branch of 
knowledge very necessary in making out prescrip- 
tions. She also employed a powerful microscope, 
analyzing food and water supplies, believing that 
the germs of disease were often contained in, and 
conveyed by, them. 

Was there anything unwomanly in all this ? 
Was it any more outside of her proper and de- 
corous sphere to spend her time in this way than 
to pass her days in sweeping and dusting, in cook- 
ing dinners and setting tables, or, if she must work 
for her daily bread, in making shirts at twelve and 
a half cents apiece ? 

This ground had been gone over in the large 
Eastern cities, and the fact conceded that Dr. 
Preston, or any other well-qualified woman, was 
just as much entitled to take up the practice of 
medicine as a man. The idea had lost all novelty, 
and women M. D.’s hung out their signs, and they 


76 


A NEW PROJECT. 


had ceased to excite comment. But Eagle’s Mere 
was a conservative town, and Dr. Preston was a 
type of a class hitherto unknown. Hence she had 
not only her own way to make, but to pioneer a 
path for her sex ; and she felt the responsibility of 
marking out a way that should be easier for their 
feet than her own had trodden. 

For all of these reasons, and for still other and 
mere personal ones, she regretted that the story 
of her adventure with John had been made public, 
and that she was henceforth, so she fancied, to be 
considered one of the unsexed, unwomanly, strong- 
minded, latter-day women. 

She was not, at heart, half as composed during 
her afternoon drive with Mr. Dearborn as her 
manner indicated. There was really a tempest 
of suppressed feeling within her, but her habitual 
self-control made her seem, to the young lawyer, 
as calm and cool as a spring morning. 

Mr. Forrest showed rare appreciation of her 
character by not calling for several days. When 
she admitted him to the office — the girl was in 
the kitchen — nothing in his manner of greeting 
her indicated that he had heard the incident. 
Nor did he refer to it during his call. 


A NEW PROJECT. 


177 


Miss Preston, I have secured a hall.” 

“ For what, Mr. Forrest } ” 

“ Have you already forgotten our plan ; I must 
say ‘ our,’ because I intend to have a part in it as 
well as yourself : to do something for the young 
men ? ” 

“You have acted very promptly. Now what 
are your plans ? ” 

“ The whole thing grows upon me. Miss Preston, 
to such an extent that I hardly know where to 
begin or when to stop. I have a list of three 
daily and ten weekly papers, and three monthly 
magazines. These will be sent as soon as the 
hall is ready for our use.” 

“ What are you doing to the room ? ” 

“ Trying to make it attractive. When I see the 
gilding and glitter and glare of the saloons, and 
the jolly good-fellowship in them, I do not wonder 
so many young men are drawn there. If I could 
offer any counter-attraction, I should have more 
hope of success.” 

“ The reading-room must be made as bright and 
cheerful as possible, Mr. Forrest. You are not 
doing this work alone ? ” 

“No; I have all the help I need at present. 


lyS A NEW PROJECT. 

But I want advice, and of course I come to the 
doctor for it.” 

“ Now, Mr. Forrest, I really do not think I am 
capable of advising you in this case any further. 
Had you not better consult a physician of more ex- 
perience ? ” smiling in a way that almost rendered 
Mr. Forrest oblivious of time, place, and mission. 

His thought was : “ What a rare sweet sniile 
she has ! How it lights up her face ! Any 
other woman would be conscious of the power 
of such a smile, and be in a perpetual giggle,” 
His very proper answer to Miss Preston’s 
question was : “You are the first one to take up 
the case, and I am confident you can prescribe the 
right course to take.” 

“What weighs on your mind just at present, 
Mr. Forrest } ” 

“ This : Shall we offer any amusements to the 
young men ? Will they not tire of the papers, 
and go straight from our reading-room to the 
saloon, and contrast the attractiveness of the two, 
greatly to our disadvantage ? ” 

“Very likely. For some unexplained reason, 
the devil makes the way to his domains very 
enticing.” 


A NEW PROJECT. 


179 

“You don’t think, Miss Preston, that every- 
thing that is lovely and winning is of the devil 

“ On the contrary, I am often filled with amaze- 
ment that people who claim to be God’s chil- 
dren do not take lessons of the children of this 
world, or children of the devil, if you please, and 
try to throw some gleams of brightness around 
the upward way.” 

“ As for instance ? ” 

“ For instance, you must make your reading- 
room bright and cheerful. Suggest to your friends 
to give pictures for the walls. Have a good stove 
that will make the place warm and bright. Have 
easy chairs and curtains, and anything in the way 
of decoration that you can get.” 

“ And what about amusements ? That is the 
ghost that will not down, in my own mind.” 

“ If you could have a gymnasium, in a cheap 
way, Mr. Forrest, I believe it would prove at- 
tractive, and also furnish healthful exercise.” 

“ We will have a gymnasium. Why did I not 
think of that ? How would ninepins do 

“ Admirable idea. And chess, and checkei*^. 
and backgammon, Mr. Forrest.” 

“ And cards ? ” looking keenly at her. 


l8o A NEW PROJECT. 

** Do you really want me to express myself 
frankly .? ” 

“Certainly I do.” 

“ Then my opinion is that I would not have 
cards.” 

“ Are you opposed to card-playing, Miss Pres- 
ton .? ” " 

“ That is neither here nor there in our plans. 
The young men will not be any the worse for not 
finding cards in your room. They would not be 
any better for going there to play cards. If they 
must have a game now and then, let them play it 
somewhere else. For my own part, being ex- 
tremely old-fashioned in my views, I should be 
glad if men never played cards except at home 
and with their families.” 

“ Miss Preston, I am another old-fashioned 
person in my views on that subject, but I stand 
quite alone, or did, till you just now declared 
yourself. I have some antiquated and almost 
obsolete ideas of personal responsibility for one’s 
influence, and especially for one who has professed 
to be in the world but not of it.” 

“ Do you put your objections on that high 
ground i* ” 


A NEW PROJECT. l8l 

“ As far as I am concerned, yes. I would not 
judge another man’s actions.” 

A faint color stole into Miss Preston’s face. 
This was a subject upon which she was sensitive. 
She answered: Mr. Forrest, I confess I am too 
much disposed to criticize the short-comings of 
church members, and to estimate the value of 
religion by the conduct of its professors.” 

“As if one should estimate the inherent power 
and efficacy of a drug by the ignorance of some 
quack who professed to practice medicine.” 

“Your illustration has the advantage of being 
one I can understand, Mr. Forrest,” and again 
her face lighted up with a smile. She looked as 
if she had caught a glimpse of a truth hitherto 
unseen. She would think of that illustration later. 

“ To return to our plans. Miss Preston : I have 
thought out a course of evening entertainments, 
or, at least, am thinking out a course. I have put 
you on the programme for one evening.” 

Miss Preston started in dismay. “ What can 
you mean, Mr. Forrest ? ” 

“ I want you to give us an evening with your 
microscope. I know you would make the subject 
intensely interesting.” 


i 82 


A NEW PROJECT. 


“ But I can’t think of such a thing.” 

“Are you going to desert me already ? ” 

“ I will do all in my power in a quiet way, but if 
you want a lecture you must give it.” 

“Well, then, you must let me come and prepare 
it under your direction. I have no microscope.” 

If ever a man made a specious plea, Mr. Forrest 
did then and there. He was truly anxious for the 
“ evening with the microscope,” but he was much 
more anxious for an indefinite number of quiet 
evenings with Miss Preston. 

And she, unsuspecting, said cordially, “Yes, you 
can come as often as you wish.” 

Delightful carte-blanche ! 

“Then I must go, and we will talk over our 
plans at another time. By the way,” — he said this 
as he stood at the door, hat in hand, — “ there is a 
poor but worthy and safe man who has just gotten 
a horse and phaeton that he wishes to drive for 
the benefit of the public, and his own pocket If 
you need to engage a conveyance and driver I can 
recommend him. Leave your orders at the post- 
ofifice, and he will be on hand promptly.” 

“ I am so glad to hear this. I shall certainly 
employ him,” 


A NEW PROJECT. 


1^3 


“ There ! ” after Mr. Forrest had taken his de- 
parture, “ there ! He has not heard of my little 
escapade. I am so glad.” 

And Mr. Forrest, walking away with the image 
of Miss Preston very vividly in his heart, thought 
to himself, “ She will never suspect that she is 
patronizing the man that I have set up in the 
livery business on her special account. If I can 
manage to prevent it, she shall not be taking mid- 
night drives, over dangerous mountain roads, with 
drunken drivers,” 


CHAPTER XIX. 


INTO THE LIGHT. 



'OR a long time after Mr. Forrest left, Patience 


X stood at the window, that was filled with 
flowering plants in luxuriant bloom, occasionally 
picking off a faded leaf, and oftener looking out 
on the hills in their glorious autumnal dress. 
Whether it was the mysterious influence of the 
season, always full of serious suggestions to a re- 
flecting mind, or whether it was something in 
her recent interview with Mr. Forrest, she could 
hardly define to herself the reason of her present 
mood. But as she stood there she was seriously 
debating with herself the question whether life 
was worth living. That enigma propounds itself, 
at times, to every earnest soul, and its true solu- 
tion must be God-given to each individual. The 
answer had not yet come to Patience. She was sur- 
prised at her own vague unrest as she still lingered 


by the window. She tried to trace it to its source. 
184 


INTO THE LIGHT. 


185 


She was absorbed in her profession ; it satisfied 
her as far as any occupation could. It absorbed 
her intellect, and she was reasonably successful 
in it ; she had no cause of anxiety on that score. 
She would probably grow in knowledge and reputa- 
tion as the years went on. For the years would 
go, as years will do whether we would hold them 
back or urge their onward flight ; and she would 
visit the sick ; she would rejoice over the con- 
valescent ; she would try to ease the last moments 
of the dying : this would be the story of her life, 
and then ? 

“ On boiio f ” she asked herself. “Is that all I 
am to hope for, all I am living for, all I was intended 
to live for .? ” 

Deep down in her consciousness she knew she 
was made for a higher life. She knew, only she 
would not admit the knowledge even to her own 
heart, that her only hope of happiness here or here- 
after was in finding God and becoming reconciled 
to him. But she had so long been arguing against 
Christianity from the indifference of its professors, 
that her thoughts instinctively took up the same 
old course of reasoning when she had reached this 
point in her self communings. 


INTO THE LIGHT. 


1 86 

Then, suddenly, the illustration Mr. Forrest had 
used flashed upon her : It is as if you should 

deny the efficacy and power of drugs because some 
doctors are quacks.” 

“ I know that morphia will ’quiet the restless 
nerves, notwithstanding all the charlatans in the 
profession ; why not admit there is a wondrous 
power in the religion of Christ to satisfy and give 
peace to our restless souls, even though many 
church members do not avail themselves of this 
power ? ” 

She was pulling the leaves recklessly from her 
plants by this time. The sun was setting behind 
the western hills, but he was going down right 
royally, attended by a retinue of clouds in gold, 
and purple, and crimson. His last beams lingered 
lovingly on the hills, as if loath to leave them. 

“ It is a beautiful world, notwithstanding all the 
sin, and the sorrow, and the unrest. If our hearts 
were only in harmony with all these glorious aspects 
of nature ! ” 

Suddenly Patience turned and went swiftly to 
the kitchen. Sally, the office girl and maid of all 
work, was there, making preparations for their late 
-supper : Mrs. Preston was also there, Patience 


INTO THE LIGHT. 


187 


went up to her mother, threw her arms around 
her slender figure, kissed her cheek, and also 
untied the strings of her gingham apron, which 
Mrs. Preston had put on to protect her black dress, 
and tied it over her own. 

“Now, mother, please go into the dining-room 
and lie down on the lounge till supper is ready. 
My brains are cobwebby, and I want to clear them 
out by a little exercise. I will help Sally ; ” say- 
ing which she gently forced her mother out of the 
kitchen. 

Patience was a skilled cook. She believed that 
whatever had to be done should be done well ; she 
also believed that many of the poorer class of the 
people were literally dying for want of proper 
knowledge in regard to the preparation of their 
daily food. The deadly frying-pan was still slay- 
ing its victims. Men went from their tables spread 
with poorly-cooked, unpalatable, unsatisfying food, 
to fill up the vacancy in their stomachs at the 
nearest saloon. Hence she considered it a part 
— and a very important part — of her professional 
duty to teach the women, in the families where 
she was called, to cook their food in an appetizing, 
healthful, yet economical manner, 


i88 


INTO THE LIGHT. 


She was eminently a matter-of-fact person, this 
Patience Preston, M. D. 

It was a very dainty little supper to which she 
and her mother sat down half an hour later, but 
there was something about Patience that Mrs. 
Preston enjoyed more than she did the delicately- 
prepared viands, the snowy linen, the shining 
silver and the quaint old china. Mrs. Preston did 
not understand the mood, but it seemed to her that 
Patience had settled in her own mind some trouble- 
some question, and that the decision had given her 
a degree of peace to which she had long been a 
stranger. But the wise mother asked no questions. 
She was content to pray, and trust. 

Later in the evening, they sat a little while to- 
gether in the office, which was also library and 
sitting-room. 

“ How is Charlie Boyd getting on. Patience.?” 

“ Very well, mother. I shall not go out again 
unless I am sent for.” 

“ The Murphys seem to be doing fairly well of 
late.” 

“ Yes ; I met Mrs. Murphy on the street to-day, 
and asked her how they all were. She said they 
were all ‘ middlin’ well savin’ myself, and Tve been 


INTO THE LIGHT. 


189 


injoyin’ right smart of poor health.’ ” Patience 
had good imitative powers, and she reproduced 
Mrs. Murphy’s reply so ridiculously well that Mrs. 
Preston laughed heartily. 

“ I have the flannels made for the Murphy baby, 
and whenever you want them, they are ready.” 

“ Have you ? Don’t you think it would be best 
to wait till colder weather, and then they may last 
through the winter.^ Mrs. Murphy has no fore- 
thought, and she will put them on the baby as 
soon as she gets them. Then when they are worn 
.to tatters the child will go without until some kind 
providence, like you, will send some more.” 

Patience, I regret more than I can tell you, 

» 

that you are spending your days here, in this far- 
away place, and among people that cannot appreci- 
ate you — I mean professionally. You have to 
encounter prejudice as being the first woman in 
all this region to practice medicine, and it is only 
natural that your patients should be mostly among 
the poorer class.” 

Patience put out her hands with a deprecating 
gesture. “ Don’t talk of it, mother ! I am, at 
least, getting experience. Appreciation does not 
signify. Whatever regrets T may have felt at one 


190 INTO THE LIGHT. 

time, at present, I certainly have none. I am 
quite satisfied.” 

Patience did not say this as she would have done 
three months before. There was not a trace of 
bitterness or regret in her tone. Mrs. Preston’s 
sensitive ear noted the change, and again she 
could only pray and trust. 

“ I think I will go to bed. Patience, for I do not 
feel quite well. You do not mind my leaving 
you ” 

“ No ; but what is the matter, mother.? ” 

“ Nothing, except that I did not sleep very well 
last night.” 

Patience understood. There was nothing in 
the dispensary that would heal a wounded heart, 
or insure permanent forgetfulness, except it were 
potent enough to give the forgetfulness, of the 
grave. But if Mrs. Preston could not forget, she 
had, at least, learned submission : she had reached 
a point far ahead of Patience. 

“ Good-night, mother ! ” the tone again had in it 
a new ring ; and then Patience kissed her mother 
with unusual tenderness. 

“ Good-night, darling ! ” 

Patience seated herself once more at the table. 


INTO THE LIGHT. 


19I 

She clasped her hands over her head — a favorite 
position when she was thinking deeply — and her 
mind went back to the subject of her afternoon 
thoughts. 

‘‘ If one could only know ! Could be absolutely 
certain ! Is such certainty possible ? ” 

Her Bible was laying upon the table beside her. 
It had not been much read of late. Something — 
her mother was praying for her child in the room 
above — prompted her to open the neglected vol- 
ume. Was it by chance that her eyes fell upon 
the first chapter of St. John’s Gospel ? She com- 
menced at the first verse, and read on slowly. The 
words were not new. She had learned them years 
before, when a scholar in the Sabbath-school. But 
there seemed a new depth of meaning in the 
familiar words as she read slowly on. “ The light 
shineth in darkness ; and the darkness compre- 
hended it not.” She stopped there. 

“ Yes ; that must be it. The light has been 
shining all the time, but I have been in darkness, 
and have not comprehended it.” Then something 
very like a prayer arose, that she might be en- 
lightened. Did not the ear of Him who waits to 
hear and answer every sincere petition that trem- 


192 


INTO THE LIGHT. 


bles from the lips, or is formed in the heart, catch 
that prayer ? 

Sitll her mother knelt, with clasped hands, up- 
turned face, and streaming eyes, in the room 
above. 

After a little Patience read on : “ He was in the 
world, and the world was made by Him, and the 
world knew Him not. He came unto His own, and 
His own received Him not. But as many as re # 
ceived Him, to them gave He power to become the 
sons of God ” — She stopped right there. 

“ ‘ He came unto His own, and His own received 
Him not ! ’ That is just what I have done ! I have 
rejected Him because I have not been satisfied 
with the conduct of some of His professed fol- 
lowers. But what is that to me ? I am not re- 
sponsible for them, and my personal responsibility 
is not affected by them. I must answer for my- 
self. Perhaps I have been uncharitable. I can- 
not read their hearts, but on account- af ' their 
failure to come up to my ideas of duty, T' have not 
received Him. Yes ; I see it now.” ' Pam standing 
just where those unbelieving -Jews, in Christ’s 
time, stood.” ^ • 

Another pause, an^- another longing for light 


INTO THE LIGHT. 


193 


from above, which must have risen as a prayer to 
Him who heareth in secret and answers openly. 

“‘But as many as received Him, to them gave 
He power to become the sons of God ’ — children 
of God ! He surely has His children in the world. 
What a privilege to know one’s self a child of 
God ! I could take up my life joyfully, and 
count it a privilege to live anywhere, and in any 
circumstances, could I know surely I am His 
child.” 

A long, long pause, but the supplicant above 
still knelt in earnest prayer. 

“What am I to do ‘Receive Him,’ St. John 
says. Why should I not ? I have rejected Him, 
and tried to satisfy myself without Him, but I 
have signally failed.” 

Suddenly she rose from her chair and knelt 
beside it. “ Lord, I would receive thee ! I would 
be thy child ! ” The scales fell from her spiritual 
eyes ; a hush came over her storm-tossed soul ; 
a great peace took the place of her long and habit- 
ual unrest ; a light from the world above fell all 
around her; she comprehended it, for it had 
illuminated her darkness. In that quiet evening, 
hour He had come unto His own, and, after 


194 


Into the light. 


those years of slighting His call, and refusing to 
hear His voice, His own had received Him ! 

An hour later she went to her mother’s room, 
opening the door very softly. 

“ Are you awake, mother ? ” 

“ Yes, dear.” 

“ Are you feeling any better ? ” 

“ I am, indeed. A burden seems to have been 
lifted from my heart.” 

“ And from mine, too. Good-night ! ” and she 
stooped over her mother to kiss her. 

Mrs. Preston clasped her arms about the stoop- 
ing form, and softly whispered, “ Thank God ! ” 


CHAPTER XX. 


COLLECTING BILLS. 

O NE morning, late in October, Patience rang 
the bell of Dr. Graham’s office. The doc- 
tor himself answered the ring. 

“ Good-morning, Miss Doctor ! ” he said, grasping 
her hand with old-fashioned cordiality and polite- 
ness. “This is an unexpected pleasure. How is 
Mrs. Preston ^ ” He seated Patience in an easy 
chair and sat down beside her.^ 

“ She is quite well, thank you. Dr. Graham.” 
And then, because she was a very direct, straight- 
forward woman, she went on : “I called to ask you 
a question or two this morning.” 

Dr. Graham bowed gallantly. “ I shall be happy 
to answer any questions you may do me the honor 
to ask.” 

“They are strictly business queries. I know, 
of course, .that you Eagle’s Mere physicians have 

195 


196 


COLLECTING BILLS. 


a fixed rate of charges. I want to conform mine 
to it. Please tell me what your charges are ? ” 

“Certainly.” And Dr. Graham made out the 
schedule and gave it to her. 

“ I suppose some of my patients have been 
under the impression that I would charge less than 
you, because I am a woman. If so, they will find 
they have been very much mistaken. For the 
sake of the principle involved I shall strictly con- 
form to the rates of your Medical Society.” 

“ And you are perfectly right. Miss Doctor,” — 
this had become Dr. Graham’s common method of 
addressing her, — “ and I am glad you have decided 
so do so.” 

“ One more question. Dr. Graham : How do 
you collect your bills ? ” 

“ By a rigid adherence to, and practical exempli- 
fication of, the doctrine of the perseverance of 
the Saints,” said Dr. Graham, laughing. 

“ But do you collect your own bills ? ” 

“ Yes, indeed ! Many of the people would con- 
sider themselves insulted if I were to put their 
accounts into the hands of a collector.” 

“Dr. Graham, I have been acquiring a fund 
of experience since I came here, but I did not 


COLLECTING BILLS. 


197 


anticipate I should add the experience of a col- 
lector.” 

“ And I must tell you another thing, Miss Doc- 
tor : it is not easy to collect a physician’s bills. 
The people, if they get well, seem to think they 
would have done so without your assistance. And 
if any of your patients die, the survivors con- 
sider it preposterous in you to present a bill for 
treating a person who died under your care.” 

This is a feature of practice, in a small town, 
that I do not like so well. But most of my pa- 
tients, thus far, have been so poor that I shall make 
no charges against them.” 

** Miss Doctor, if I can assist you in any 
way, please feel perfectly free to call upon me. 
My dear young friend,” he added, in a sudden 
burst of genuine sympathy from his warm, pater- 
nal heart, “ my dear young friend, it would sow my 
dying pillow thick with thorns if I should know 
my daughter would be left to struggle alone with 
the world as you are so bravely doing, and I would 
like to do for you what I pray her friends may do 
for her should she ever be similarly situated.” 

Patience, quite moved by the sudden and totally 
unexpected evidence of fatherly kindness, felt her 


98 


COLLECTING BILLS. 


eyes fill with tears. It was so long since any one, 
except her mother, had shown such interest in 
her! 

Dr. Graham went on : “I am an old-fashioned 
man, and I must confess that I would like to see 
every woman sheltered, and protected, and pro- 
vided for. I know that the rapidly-changing con- 
ditions of society have made it necessary for many 
women to make their own way in the world, and I 
can fully admire the heroism with which you, and 
such as you, are doing it. None the less do I feel 
that you are struggling against fearful odds, and 
that the burdens you carry are infinitely heavier 
for your weaker shoulders than those same burdens 
would be for men to bear. 

“ Before I had the pleasure of knowing you, I 
am very free to acknowledge that I was strongly 
prejudiced against admitting women into our pro- 
fession. I fancied they must necessarily become 
unsexed and unwomanly. I was in the habit of 
declaiming against their incapacity, their ineffi- 
cient preparation, and their manifest inability 
either to diagnose or treat a case properly. You 
have overturned 'all my preconceived ideas, and I 
feel it my duty to make this confession to you. 


COLLECTING BILLS. 


199 


and also to assure you of my profound respect for 
your abilities, and again to offer my assistance in 
any way in which I can be of service to you.” 
After which somewhat ponderous but thoroughly 
hearty tribute of good-will, Dr. Graham again 
shook Dr. Preston’s hand. 

“ Many thanks, Dr. Graham, for your kind 
words. I assure you, I appreciate them. And 
you would advise me to collect my own bills ? ” 
she asked, as she rose to go. 

“Yes-; unless you can make a sort of com- 
promise by sending around a trusty man who is 
not a regular collector.” 

“ How would it do to get the man who drives 
for me, to carry them around ? ” 

“ That would do very well. I know he is a man 
you can trust.” 

Patience walked swiftly home and sat down to 
make out her bills. In two hours they were 
ready, and she took them to Jackson. He at once 
started out to collect them. 

In every community there are people who 
always attend the newest church, go to hear the 
latest preacher, patronize the last dentist who puts 
out his sign, and send for the most recently ar- 


200 


COLLECTING BILLS. 


rived doctor. Of such people Patience could 
count more than a fair share among her patrons. 
The novelty in her case was double. She was a 
new-comer, and she was a “woman doctor both 
of which reasons had been potent enough to send 
her a goodly number of patients. Dr. Graham’s 
strongly-expressed confidence in her had been the 
means of her being patronized by some of a more 
reliable class, and her own success had won her 
many more friends. But now the test was to be 
applied that would decide how much dependence 
was to be placed upon her patrons. 

Jackson’s first call was at a plain, unpretending 
house. Of course it was on the south side of the 
social line of latitude : the most of her patients 
were on that side. Jackson rang the bell, and a 
decent-looking woman came to the door. He 
silently placed the bill in her hand and waited, 
expectant. The woman glanced over the bill. 

“ Shameful ! Scandalous ! That woman has 
asked as much as any man doctor would have 
done. I thought, of course, being a woman, she 
would be glad to come for little or nothing. I am 
not going to pay any such bill, and you can take 
it back and tell her so. She didn’t do no good. 


COLLECTING BILLS. 


201 


anyhow. ’Mandy just got well, and she would if 
that woman doctor hadn’t come near her. I never 
had no faith in women doctors, no how.” And she 
thrust the bill in Jackson’s hand and shut the 
door in his face. 

At the next place Jackson was met by a little 
girl with unclean face and hands, and most untidy 
dress. 

“Is your mother in ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Can I see her a minute } ” 

The child called, without leaving the door : 
“ Mother ! mother ! a man wants ter see ye.” 

“ Who is he ? ” 

The question came from remote depths. The 
speaker was evidently down-cellar. 

“ I do’ know.” 

Soon appeared the mother upon the scene, and 
Jackson gave her the bill. 

“ What did ye say ’tis } ” 

“Dr. Preston’s bill.” 

“ She hain’t had the impudence to send no bill, 
I hope ! Let me see how much ’tis ? Five dol- 
lars ! That’s as much as Dr. Graham would ask. 
I never would have sent for her, but I thought. 


202 


COLLECTING BILLS. 


being a woman, she would come for half-price, 
ril pay her two dollars, and not a cent more.” 

“ The bill is five dollars,” said Jackson. 

“ ril not pay no five dollars, and the next time 
I have a doctor I’ll send for Dr. Graham ! ” She 
neglected to add that she already owed Dr. Graham 
ten times the amount of the modest bill that had 
just been presented. 

The next call was more successful. The bill 
was for services rendered a child who had been 
very ill. Patience and her mother had been there 
day and night, and the grateful woman had not 
forgotten their kindness. She paid the amount — 
fifteen dollars — smilingly. 

“ It has been waiting a long time for Dr. Preston. 
Henry and I couldn’t rest till the money was laid 
by for her. She earned it twice over. Are you 
going right up to Dr. Preston’s ? ” 

“Not till I’ve made a few more calls.” 

“Would it be too much trouble to stop in, on 
your way back, and get a basket of fresh eggs to 
carry to her mother ? ” 

“ No, indeed. I’ll call in an hour or two.” 
Jackson’s success afterward was about the same 
as it had been thus far. He started out with bills 


COLLECTING BILLS. 


203 


amounting to two hundred and fifty dollars ; he col- 
lected some seventy-five dollars, which was really 
a good day’s work : about fifty dollars more 
would be paid sometime : the remainder, if col- 
lected at all, would be with difficulty. And as a 
rule, with some few exceptions, those for whom 
Patience had done the most — in whose homes she 
had been an angel of mercy, furnishing food and 
clothing as well as medicine — those were the 
people who had no words of kindness for the 
‘‘woman doctor.” 

On his way home Jackson stopped for the basket 
of eggs. A large bouquet of late autumn flowers 
was also in the basket. “ Please give them to 
Mrs. Preston from me. If ever there were two 
angels those two women are.” 

Jackson delivered the money and the basket, 
likewise the unpaid bills,, but he did not deliver 
the messages that had been sent by several of 
the incensed patrons — patrons no more in the 
long hereafter — of the “woman doctor ” who had 
ventured to send her accounts against them for 
payment. 

Patience gave the money to her mother. “ You 
see I am getting experience in Eagle’s Mere, if 


204 


COLLECTING BILLS. 


not very much else. Fortunately, I am not work- 
ing for appreciation. Will this help us out of our 
present straits, mother ? ” 

“Yes, dear; we can get along nicely now. I 
expect a remittance soon.” 

The flowers brightened the office for many days 
thereafter. The humble gifts of the grateful woman 
were fully appreciated as showing that Patience 
was not quite wasting her talents, and time, and 
strength in Eagle’s Mere. 

“ What will you do about the unpaid bills. 
Patience ? Will you just let them go } ” 

“ No, indeed, mother ! There is a principle 
involved that I cannot ignore. I shall put the 
accounts into the hands of a lawyer ; but I will 
tell him not to distress any one. He shall give 
them plenty of time to make the payments, but he 
must insist upon a settlement.” 

Patience had regretted very much the false posi- 
tion in which Mr. Dearborn had put himself the 
afternoon of their well-remembered drive. She 
had no wish to make him feel uncomfortable over 
the recollection of his unfortunate proposition ; 
she really liked the young man. His exuberant 
imagination harmed no one ; he never said dis- 


COLLECTING BILLS. 


205 


agreeable things of people. In his way he added 
very much to the social life of the young people, 
and was a great favorite, albeit a great romancer. 

With a fine instinct as to the most effectual way 
of making Mr. Dearborn forget the contretemps^ or 
rather to make him feel that she had not under- 
stood the real import of his offer, she decided to 
ask him to collect these unpaid bills. She felt that 
their relations would then be on a purely business 
basis, and no question of sentiment could come up 
afterward. Of course the very idea of any senti- 
mental relation between them was absurd ; Patience 
was several years older than himself, for one good 
and sufficient reason. Ten years later the young- 
est member of the bar ” would wonder how he 
couia have thought of such a preposterous thing 
as proposing to a woman ten years older than 
himself ! 

Truly he was young, very young ! 

Mr. Dearborn took the accounts, and he collected 
them, too. The people who had so positively and 
indignantly refused to pay felt an increase of re- 
spect for Dr. Preston when they found she could 
not be imposed upon. They liked her all the 
better for obliging them to pay their just debts. 


2o6 


COLLECTING BILLS* 


After all, they did not really mean what they said 
when they had declared with such fine show of in- 
dignation that Dr. Preston should never darken 
their doors again. When sickness once more in- 
vaded their homes they remembered how promptly 
Patience had always responded to their calls. They 
could not quite forget the nights of patient watch- 
ing by their sick beds, nor the delicacies prepared 
by her own or her mother’s hand to tempt the 
appetite that rejected their plain fare. So it came 
to pass that, before spring, most of these people 
were again on Dr. Preston’s list of patrons. 


CHAPTER XXL 


A STRONGER BOND. 


HE reading-room plan was becoming im- 



X mensely popular. It appealed favorably to 
nearly every person in Eagle’s Mere, regardless of 
social status or social boundary lines. There were 
few families that did not feel the need of some 
such counteracting agency in behalf of some one 
— father, husband, brother, or son — and who did 
not gladly take hold of the enterprise as soon as 
they could lend a helping hand. 

One afternoon in October a number of the young 
people were gathered at the hall, getting things in 
order. There was much confusion and a great 
deal of work to be done^ but under the efficient 
leadership of Mr. Forrest, and Miss Graham, who 
had been in thorough sympathy with the plan from 
the first, order was being rapidly evolved from 
the chaos that reigned earlier in the day. 

Miss Preston sat quietly in a corner of the large 


207 


208 


A STRONGER BOND. 


hall and sewed, rapidly and deftly, the long breadths 
of carpet together. It was characteristic of her 
to take the least attractive work ; the work that 
most people shunned. She would go through life 
just in that way. There would always be plenty 
of persons to do the easy work and the pleasant 
work, and to do it well. “ Better than I could 
possibly do it,” said Patience to herself. 

Miss Graham was hanging pictures that had 
been given for the purpose of decorating the room, 
and Alice Mayse was draping the two mantels 
with some richly-colored Persian goods. Patience 
watched them with genuine admiration. “ Miss 
Graham has an artistic eye,” she was saying to 
herself, “ and the way she is disposing of her 
pictures proves it. I should have hung them in 
straight lines, and in pairs, and have made them 
stare at each other from opposite sides of the 
room, just so many feet apart, and exactly in the 
mathematical center of the spaces between doors 
and windows. The result would have been as 
prim and precise as the side of a Quaker meeting- 
house. Those groups of pictures are very effect- 
ive and Miss Graham knows exactly where to 
put each one.” 


A STRONGER BOND. 


209 


She was quite alone still, and her needle flew 
rapidly along the breadths of the tasteful ingrain 
carpet. “ Alice Mayse is doing wonders with those 
mantels. That soft goods falls into artistic folds 
without any apparent effort on her part, as soon 
as she touches it. There, now she is going to put 
up her mantel ornaments : a clock, two vases, a 
bisque group, a bronze figure. I suppose I should 
put the clock in the exact middle of the mantel, 
and then stand a vase just so many inches each 
side. I should match the bisque group with the 
bronze figure, and put one at each end, carefully 
measuring the distance with my eye.” Alice has 
other ideas ; she places the clock at one end of the 
mantel, puts the bronze figure next, then the two 
vases side by side, and stands the bisque group at 
the other end. There is a quick, deft motion of 
her hands, a little shifting of the articles, and they 
look thoroughly at home. 

It is a talent, a gift,” said Patience ; “and how 
cheerfully these young people are employing their 
time and talents in this work ! How I have mis- 
judged them ! They only needed to have a field 
opened for them, and they have gone to work, each 
one according to his or her ability. I suppose that 


210 


A STRONGER BOND. 


is the reason why so many are standing idle in the 
market places ; it is just as it was when Christ 
spoke the parable : no man has employed them. 
That is the secret of many frivolous and wasted 
lives. Opportunities for usefulness have been lack- 
ing. The few make opportunities, but the many 
only take them when they are offered, and if they 
seize them then, as these young people are doing, 
does the Master expect more ? ” 

The large hall was to have a carpet only in the 
middle of the room. Already a book-case and 
cabinet organ had been put in place on different 
sides of the hall, and several young men, assisted 
by the young girls, were unpacking books and 
arranging them on the shelves. A few had 
gathered around the organ, by which a young man 
was seated, testing its tones. There was some 
singing, much happy laughter, and a constant flow 
of pleasant conversation. 

Mr. Forrest, who had been directing everything, 
finally came and sat down by Patience. She was 
seated on a low stool, and the carpet lay all around 
her, as she yet sewed rapidly on the long seams. 
Her gray eyes had a suspicion of moisture in 
them. 


A STRONGER BOND. 


21 I 

‘‘What do you think of it? ” asked Mr. For- 
rest. 

** I think I should like to ask pardon of every 
person in this room,” was her totally unexpected 
answer. 

“Why?” 

“ For my severe judgment of them, and of the 
sincerity of their professions.” 

“ I think that as far as they have known of your 
criticisms, they have acquiesced in them ; at least, 
I mean so far as their own short-comings are con- 
cerned. They are quite ready to acknowledge 
their inconsistencies of living. I certainly am.” 

“ Please do not use that word. I am ashamed 
to hear it. We are all inconsistent, whether we 
profess to be Christians or not. But I see now 
that it was not lack of disposition, but lack of 
Opportunity on the part of your young people.” 

“And we have to thank you for showing us 
this way of usefulness, and making opportunities 
for us to go to work. Miss Preston.” 

“ My share is very small. I am only happy to 
have made a slight suggestion, but the working 
up of the plan is entirely your own. There, I 
believe this carpet is ready to put down.’^ And 


212 


A. STRONGER BOND. 


Patience rose from her low seat, and picked off 
the bits of wool from her dress. 

“Then we will have it laid directly.” And 
Mr. Forrest summoned some of the young men to 
his assistance, while Patience went and sat down 
by the cabinet organ. A group of girls was 
around her directly. 

“ Please sing for us. Miss Preston } ” they asked. 

Since that eventful evening when the new light 
and life came to Patience, she had accompanied 
Mrs. Preston to church every Sabbath, and those 
who sat near her had remarked her sweet con- 
tralto voice as she joined in the singing, hence the 
request. 

Patience wheeled around on the stool, and faced 
the group. 

“ I cannot' sing till I heartily ask your forgive- 
ness for the uncharitable things I have said of 
you. I thought your professions were all a snare 
and a delusion. I did not give you credit for very 
much depth of conviction or feeling, so far as the 
Christian life is concerned. Frankly, I admit that 
I supposed you only cared to have a good time, re- 
gardless of your influence upon others or the reflex 
influence upon yourselves. I often said I could 


A STRONGER BOND. 


213 


not put much faith in a religion whose professors 
seemed so little influenced by it. Please forgive 
me for my harsh judgment. I see now I was only 
making excuses for my own neglect of duty. I 
hope my eyes have been opened, and I want yon 
to know of my changed Views and feelings. I am 
sure all of you are happy in doing any work for 
the Master that presents itself; and f think the 
more we find to do for him the less we care for 
merely passing pleasures. You can scarcely know 
how much good you may accomplish by helping 
on this plan of Mr. Forrest’s; something of the 
kind is so much needed." 

“ That is so," echoed several voices. 

“ And, girls," said Patience, with a tender tremor 
in her voice, “ let us try to help each other on the 
upward way. We need all the assistance we can 
get from every quarter.” 

She had touched a responsive chord, and tears 
filled many eyes. They were not heartless, those 
fair young girls, nor thoughtless, except some- 
times to outward seeming. Deep down in their 
hearts were longings for a better life ; aspirations 
after God, and holiness, and Heaven. They could 
not always voice their own emotions. They had 


214 


A STRONGER BOND. 


not been trained to do it ; but the feeling was 
there, and God knew it. 

Happy for us all, the worst as well as the best, 
that God, not man, is to be our final judge ! 

From that hour Patience had a strong hold on 
each of that group of girls. 

“Now please sing,” said Miss Graham, after a 
moment of silence. 

Patience turned again to the organ and ran her 
fingers over the keys. Then, in a clear, sweet 
voice she sang that familiar hymn, so much in 
accord with her own thoughts of that day : — 


^ One more day’s work for Jesus, 

One less of life for me ! 

But heaven is nearer, and Christ is dearer, 
Than yesterday, to me ; 

His love and light 
Fill all my soul to-night. 


One more day’s work for Jesus! 
How sweet the work has been, 
To tell the story, to show the glory, 
Where Christ’s flock enter in 1 
How did it shine 
In this poor heart of mine 1 


A STRONGER BOND. 


215 


Oh, blessed work for Jesus ! 

Oh, rest at Jesus feet ! 

There trial seems pleasure, my wants are treasure, 
And pain for him is sweet. 

Lord, if I may. 

I’ll serve another day.” 


Patience had little thought of herself or her lis- 
teners while she sang. Her soul was in the words 
and the music. But before she had finished the 
first verse every person in the room had joined 
the circle around her, and they listened breath- 
lessly till she had finished. Her singing was a 
revelation to them ; even to those who had heard 
her in church. Here voice was exquisitely pure, 
and full of expression, and every syllable she sang 
was articulated with clearness. Plainly she pos- 
sessed a talent that could be used effectively in 
the Master’s service. The hush that had fallen 
upon her auditors expressed eloquently the impres- 
sion her singing had produced. 

Do sing us something more. Miss Preston,” 
said Mr. Dearborn. For once he had been carried 
outside and above himself. 

“ What shall I sing ? ” 

Select something yourself please,” 


2i6 


A STRONGER BOND. 


Again Patience ran her fingers over the keys, 
wondering within herself what she should select. 
Only one thing occurred to her, and she sang it : — 


“ One sweetly solemn thought 
Comes to me o’er and o’er — 
Nearer my home to-day am 1 
Than e’er I’ve been before. 


Nearer my Father’s house, 

Where many mansions be ; 

Nearer to-day the great white throne. 
Nearer the crystal sea. 


Nearer the bound of life. 

Where burdens are laid down ; 
Nearer to leave the heavy cross ; 
Nearer to gain the crown. 


But, lying dark between. 

Winding down through the night. 

There rolls the deep and unknown stream 
That leads at last to light. 


Ev’n now, perchance, my feet 
Are slipping on the brink. 

And I, to-day, am nearer home, — 
Nearer than now I think, 


A STRONGER BOND. 


217 


Father, perfect my trust ! 

Strengthen my power of faith ! 

Nor let me stand, at last, alone 
Upon the shore of death.” 

As the last words, Alone upon the shore of 
death,” died away in the silence, more than one per- 
son in that group felt, as never before, the need of 
One to cross with them “ the deep and unknown 
stream,” and realized, perhaps for the first time, 
how awful it would be to stand alone” in life’s 
latest, supremest hour. How many aspirations 
were breathed heavenward that they might be 
prepared, for that hour, only He knows. 

Patience rose from the organ. Mr. Forrest was 
standing near. “ Is there anything I can do now ? ” 
she asked. ^ 

“ I think we are nearly through for to-day. 
Won’t you come with me, and look at the books 
in the case ” 

As they stood beside the case, Mr. Forrest said, 
“ I want to thank you for singing those hymns. 
You do not know how much good you may have 
done,” and his manner told how sincerely he felt 
what he said. 

Gradually the young people went away. Mr. 


2i8 


A STRONGER BOND. 


Forrest walked home with Patience. He had 
been interested in her from the first, but the 
change that had recently come over her made her 
seem to him the one woman in all the world ! 

And it never occurred to him that evening as 
he walked home with Patience under the clear 
October sky, in which the stars were already 
coming out, that he would not like to be the silent 
member of the firm in a possible partnership, or 
that he could have any reasonable objections to 
being known as “ the husband of Dr. Preston ! ” 

Meanwhile, Mr. Forrest’s studies in microscopy 
went steadily on, under Dr. Preston’s instruction. 
He was preparing the lecture for some winter 
evening in the future, and he was also making 
some discoveries, not laid down in the text-books, 
thanks to the same able teacher. 


CHAPTER XXII. 


jim’s broken leg. 

O NE morning, late in October, there was up- 
roarious excitement among the youthful 
residents of that outlying portion of Eagle’s Mere 
known as Shanty Town. There was a great gather- 
ing of the clans, for once regardless of color, creed, 
sex or nationality. They carried baskets of all 
shapes, and of assorted sizes. The initiated under- 
stood the signs to indicate a nutting expedition. 
It was currently reported, and on reliable authority, 
that the frost had released the chestnuts upon the 
mountain side from the tenacious clutch of the 
enveloping prickly burs, and the aforesaid nuts 
were declared to be lying, as Jim Mahoney tersely 
expressed it, thicker’n spatter under the trees.” 

Jim was the leader of the foray. He was gen- 
erally the leader in every enterprise that he honored 
with the light of his freckled countenance. It was 
tacitly understood that he was to take command 


219 


220 


JIM’S BROKEN LEG. 


of the crowd, or else he would take leave of them, 
and Jim’s presence was quite needful on • such 
occasions as this. His long arms and legs were of 
special help in climbing the tall chestnut-trees, 
and he could climb higher, and shake down more 
nuts, than any other boy in the whole ragged 
regiment. 

They started out with great waving of banners, 
and blowing of trumpets, figuratively speaking, 
also with such provisions as the poorly-filled pan- 
tries of the neighborhood could furnish. They ex- 
pected to spend the entire day on the side of the 
mountain, nothing doubting — all previous experi- 
ence to the contrary notwithstanding — that they 
should come home with baskets filled to overflow- 
ing with the indigestible but much-prized chest- 
nuts. After their departure a great and unusual 
stillness fell upon Shanty Town, and the day 
promised to be one of more than Sabbath quiet. 

In less than three hours an advance guard of 
the nutting force came hurrying back, breathless, 
with tales of disaster. At first, in the intense ex- 
citement, it was difflcult to get a clear account of 
the affair. It was rumored that several of the 
children had been killed ; then, that five or six 


JIM'S BROKEN LEG. 


221 

had broken their limbs; but the truth came out 
at last, when Jim Mahoney was brought home by 
four of the largest boys, on an ingeniously impro- 
vised litter, with a broken leg. 

Jim had fallen from a high tree, his long leg had 
doubled under him, and, of course, was broken. 
He had been taken up from the ground perfectly 
unconscious, and his frightened companions, has- 
tily constructing a rude litter, across which they 
stretched some old blankets which they had 
brought with them to spread upon the ground for 
the purpose of receiving the falling chestnuts, 
started homeward. By the time they reached his 
mother’s door Jim had recovered consciousness, 
and was making fierce outcries of agony. 

Dr. Graham, the favorite physician of all 
Shanty Town, was at once sent for, but he was 
out of town. Dr. Forbes, another old physician, 
was sought by the messenger. Hastily taking up 
his case of instruments. Dr. Forbes started, and 
on the way called for Dr. Jones, also an old practi- 
tioner, and the two soon reached Mrs. Mahoney’s 
primitive abode. Jim had fully recovered the 
power of speech. He looked upon the medical 
men, as they entered, with great displeasure, ancj 


222 JIM’s broken LE6. 

at once exclaimed, I want Dr. Preston ! Send 
for Dr. Preston ! ” 

The two surgeons paid no attention to his out- 
cries, but proceeded to investigate his injuries. 

“ Don’t you dare touch me ! ” he shouted. 

Send for Dr. Preston ! ” and he used the unin- 
jured leg with such force and efficiency that the 
doctors were glad to retreat to a .safe distance. 

Meanwhile Mrs. Mahoney had sent her young- 
est hopeful for Miss Preston, and while Jim’s 
sound leg was still flourishing menacingly in the 
air. Patience appeared upon the scene. 

Jim greeted her entrance warmly, as did his 
mother. Dr. Forbes and Dr. Jones vouchsafed her 
no notice beyond a cool and somewhat disagree- 
able nod, and again made an attempt to ascertain 
the extent of his injuries: his clothing had already 
been cut away. 

No sooner had they touched him than he again 
shrieked, “ Lemme alone ! Lemme alone ! You 
hurt me ! Let Dr. Preston look at my leg ! *’ 

Patience stepped to the bedside, and, with the 
utmost tenderness, but skillfully, handled the in* 
jured leg until she was certain the upper bone was 
broken in two places. It was a serious case. She 


Jim's broken leg. 


^23 


quietly reported the facts to iDr. Forbes and Dr. 
Jones. 

“ Have you chloroform with you, Jones ? ” 

This was all the reply Dr. Forbes made to 
Patience. 

Dr. Jones produced a bottle from his pocket, 
and again the two stood by Jim’s side. Dr. Forbes 
took a clean handkerchief and saturated it with 
the anaesthetic and handed it to Dr. Jones, who 
forthwith attempted to put it over Jim’s tip-tilted 
Irish nose. 

But Jim was not to be subdued in that sum- 
mary fashion. His good right arm gave Dr. Jones 
such a blow that he drew back incontinently. Pa- 
tience came to the rescue. 

‘'Jim,” said she, putting her soft cool hand on 
the poor boy’s forehead, on which great drops of 
perspiration had been forced out by his pain, “Jim, 
we want to help you, and we want to hurt you as 
little as possible, so we will give you some chlo- 
roform, and then you will not feel the pain. All 
you have to do is just to take long breaths, and 
soon you will go to sleep, and when you wake up 
we will have your leg all right. Now, take the 
chloroform, like a good boy.” 


224 


jim’s broken leg. 

** Yes, I will, if will give it to me ; ” and he 
caught hold of her hand to detain her. 

Dr. Jones ungraciously handed her the handker- 
chief. 

“ The bottle, please } ” she asked, holding out her 
hand. 

“ There is enough, for the present, on the hand- 
kerchief,” replied Dr. Jones ; but Patience still 
held her hand extended, and looked at him with 
her clear gray eyes ; he was obliged to yield the 
contest, and the bottle. 

Jim made no further objections ; Patience applied 
the handkerchief, folded in cone-shape, to the boy’s 
nose. “Take long breaths, Jim. That’s right,” 
as the boy tried to comply with her request, 
‘Tong breaths ; ” and then she put her finger on 

9 

his pulse and noted the heart’s action. The other 
physicians stood as far away as the size of the 
room would permit, and looked as dignified as 
possible ; but Patience, also on her dignity, paid 
no attention to them. She saturated; th,e handker- 
chief the second time with the chloroform.. Finally, 
lifting an eyelid, and slapping his cheek gently 
without detecting .sign of corisciousness, she said 
quietly, “You can make your examination, now.” 


Jim’s broken leg. 


225 


For reply Dr. Forbes began to lay out his in- 
struments in readiness to amputate the leg. It 
was plain to Patience that he intended to cut off 
the limb without any ceremony. 

“You had better make another examination," 
she said quietly. “ I think possibly the leg can be 
saved." 

Dr. Forbes and Dr. Jones glanced at each other, 
but ignored Patience. Her color grew brighter, 
otherwise she seemed perfectly cool. She did not 
intend, however, that poor Jim should lose his leg 
if there was any chance of saving it. So she went 
on, “There are two fractures, but they are clean, 
and I think there is no doubt the leg can be saved, 
even if it should not be quite straight ; but it would 
be better than none." 

“ Dr. Jones, help me fix this table," said Dr. 
Forbes ; and they took hold of the kitchen table 
and placed it by the bedside. Then they started 
to lift the unconscious form of the boy, to lay it 
on the table. 

Mrs. Mahoney had been sitting with her ragged 
apron to her eyes, weeping vociferously till ex- 
hausted, and then groaning dismally, and apparently 
oblivious of all that was going on. Nevertheless 


226 


jim's broken leg. 


she had her eyes wide open, and the minute Dr. 
Forbes and Dr. Jones put their hands on Jim she 
started up and was at their side instantly. 

“ Let him alone, ye murtherin’ bla’gards ! Would 
ye be cuttin’ off me bye’s leg like he was a pig ? 
Didn’t ye hear what Dr. Preston was a-sayin’, that 
ye cud save the leg if ye wanted ? ” 

It certainly was a trying position for Patience. 
She did not like to contend with the two old sur- 
geons, but she was sure there was absolutely no 
need of amputating the leg, and she felt that it 
was her duty to protest. 

“ Please make a more careful investigation, and 
you may not find the injury as serious as you 
suppose ; ” and she put her hand on the bruised and 
bleeding leg and located the fractures. Here, 
and here,” pointing out the places ; “ and I see no 
insurmountable difficulty in setting the bone and 
saving the leg.” 

“ Then save it. Madam ! I wash my hands of the 
whole business, and wish you joy of your foolish 
experiment ; ” and Dr. Forbes replaced his instru- 
ments in their case, and the two men left the 
house. 

‘‘ Mrs. Mahoney, send some one to see if Dr. 


Jim's broken leg. 


^27 


Graham has come home. The train is just in;” 
and then Patience went calmly to work. She gave 
Jim another whiff of the chloroform, — Dr. Jones 
had, fortunately, forgotten the bottle, — then she 
wiped off the blood from the injured part, and 
deftly went on to set the broken bones. She had 
the theory perfectly, and also the benefit of three 
years’ practice in a woman’s hospital in New 
York. She had besides a cool head and quick 
judgment. There was really no special difficulty 
in the case, and when Dr. Graham, who, fortu- 
nately, had reached home, came in, she was ready 
for the splints. 

“ Dr. Graham, do you think this is all right ? ” 

He examined closely. “ Yes ; you have the 
bones well placed. Now we will get the splints 
on, and if this youngster can be kept quiet a few 
weeks he will have a good leg again.” 

Jim was made as comfortable as possible, and 
Dr. Graham left. Patience did not tell him of her 
experience with Dr. Forbes and Dr. Jones. If 
they chose to speak of the affair they were at 
liberty to do so. Patience was one of the few 
people who can see all sides of a subject and make 
due allowances for diversities of opinion. Dr. 


228 


Jim’s broken leg. 


Forbes and Dr. Jones had both received their 
medical education many years before, and since 
that time the healing art had made much progress. 
According to their teaching, Jim’s leg could not be 
saved, but must be amputated. Patience, having- 
had the benefit of the advanced state of surgical 
art, saw no difficulty, at least no insuperable 
difficulty, in setting and saving the broken leg ; 
but she realized the honesty of their judgment, and 
gave them full credit for it. 

She did not so much resent their unmanly treat- 
ment of her, for she knew that physicians of their 
age looked upon the women who had entered the 
profession as unwomanly, ambitious interlopers ; 
but, all the same, she intended to stand upon her 
dignity and reserved rights, for the sake of the 
women who should come after her. If she must 
be a pioneer in her profession, in that region of 
country, she would make as straight and smooth a 
path for her professional sisters to walk in here- 
after as lay in her power. She would leave no 
stumbling stones for their feet to trip over, if any 
effort on her part could remove them. But she 
would not allow herself to consider the conduct of 
Dr. Forbes and Dr. Jones as a personal affront ; 


JIM'S BROKEN LEG. 


229 


professionally she must disapprove of it, and could 
not be indifferent to it. 

Patience remained with Jim until the effect of 
the chloroform had fully worn away. At length 
he opened his eyes. 

And where’s me leg ” he asked faintly. 

“ In bed with you, Jim,” answered Patience, as 
she stood by his side bathing his face with cool 
water. 

And didn’t them men doctors cut if off } ” 

“No, indeed,” said Patience ; and Mrs. Mahoney, 
who had heard the sound of Jim’s voice, came into 
the room as he asked the question. 

“ Indade, Jim, ye may thank this blessed woman 
that ye have a leg left at all. The blurdy men 
had their sharp knives a’ready to murther ye, but 
Dr. Preston, she spoke up that sharp to them and 
wouldn’t let them be afther a-touchin’ ye.” 

“Jim,”, said Patience, “you ought to be very 
thankful that you were not killed when you fell 
from the tree. I hope you are going to be a good 
boy after this.” 

“And indade he’s that all the time,” said Mrs. 
Mahoney. 

Jim’s narrow escape from sudden death, and his 


230 


Jim’s broken leg. 


serious accident, had made the poor mother for the 
time forgetful of the fact that her son Jim had- 
been the torment and terror of her existence. 

Jim looked up at his mother’s face in great 
amazement. Never before had he heard such 
words from the maternal lips. He doubted the 
evidence of his senses, and seemed to consider the 
remark as one of the lingering hallucinations in- 
duced by the chloroform. Between his weakness 
and his surprise he could only answer, “ Yes’m.” 

“ Now, Jirri, you must be very quiet, and try 
to go to sleep. I am going home for a little 
while, but I will come back this evening and bring 
you some beef tea. I am going to stay here 
to-night and attend to your leg. Don’t try to 
move at all. You must be very patient and quiet, 
and then I hope you will have as good a leg as 
ever ; but if you grow restless, and fretful, and 
impatient you may have to lose your leg, after all.” 

Jim, still dazed by the chloroform and the kind- 
ness, again murmured a faint “ Yes’m.” 

The next two weeks were anxious ones for Pa- 
tience. Jim, notwithstanding his promise, grew 
very tired and restless, and nearly worked himself 
into a fever that would certainly have brought on 


Jim’s broken leg. 


231 


inflammation in the broken leg. Mrs. Preston 
took turns with Patience in sitting by the boy. 
They carried him books to look at, and, as his 
education had not advanced far enough for him to 
make much headway in reading, they read to him 
hour after hour. In this way they hoped to sow 
some good seed that might germinate in his after- 
life. 

“ Dr. Graham,” said Dr. Forbes one day, as the 
two met on the street, I hear you are attending 
Jim Mahoney, the boy who fell from the chestnut- 
tree and broke his leg. How is he getting on.^” 

“ No ; I am not attending him. Dr. Preston has 
had charge of the case from the first, but she sent 
for me to help her set the leg.” 

“ Can yo^ save it .^ ” said Dr. Forbes, ignoring 
all allusion to Dr. Preston. 

Dr. Preston is succeeding admirably with the 
case. I confess, Dr. Forbes, if I had seen the 
leg before the bones were in place, I might have 
been tempted to amputate. That woman has 
pluck and nerve! She has good judgment, too. 
You and I must acknowledge that these young 
doctors have the advantage of us in their knowl- 
edge of the latest and best methods of surgery.” 


232 


jim’s broken leg. 


“ Maybe so ; maybe so ; ” and Dr. Forbes went 
his way, much wondering in his mind if Dr. Gra- 
ham had not heard of his own part in this case. 
On mature reflection, the man had grace enough 
to be ashamed of his treatment of Patience, and 
he was relieved to think that Dr. Graham had not 
been told of it. Her silence, if it proved she really 
had been silent, had conquered him. He would 
never again put a straw in her way ; he might 
even come to recognize her as a humble member 
of the noble profession to which he belonged. 
Concession could go no further. 

So here was one stone taken out of the rough 
highway, and one little place made smooth for the 
feet that should follow in Dr. Preston’s footsteps. 

On Christmas morning Jim Mahoney walked up 
to the office of Dr. Forbes, assisted only by a 
srnall cane, and wished him a “ Merry Christmas ! ” 
Then he called on Dr. Jones with the same good 
wish. 

It is sincerely to be hoped that both men were 
better pleased to see Jim on two good legs, even 
if a “woman doctor” had the credit for it, than 
to have seen him on one leg, and have had the 
pleasure of saying, “ I told you so.” 


CHAPTER XXIII. 


A CAPITAL IDEA. 



N Christmas eve several of the young peo- 


pie met at Alice Mayse’s. Miss Graham 
was there, and so was Mr. Forrest. Later in the 
evening Mr. Dearborn came in. 

“Are you going to ‘receive’ on New Year’s, 
Alice ? ” asked Miss Graham. The custom was 
still much in vogue in Eagle’s Mere. 

“ I have scarcely thought about it yet. If you 
will come in and receive with me, I think it would 
be very pleasant,” answered Alice. 

“ I have an idea,” interposed Mr. Dearborn. 

“ Is it very lonely ? ” asked Alice, in tones of 
commiseration. 

“ I congratulate you heartily,” said Mr. Forrest, 
extending his hand. 

Mr. Dearborn’s good nature was only equaled 
by his imagination, so he laughed with the com- 
pany at his own expense. 


234 


A CAPITAL IDEA. 


“ What is your precious idea ? ” It was Miss 
Graham who asked the question. 

“ My idea is that it would be a capital thing for 
you girls to go up to the Hall and receive there : 
I mean all of you girls.” 

Mr. Forrest extended his hand again, this 
time in sincere congratulation : Dearborn, if 

you should not have another idea for a week, you 
might, nevertheless, feel you had not lived in vain ! 
That is a positive inspiration of yours. Don’t 
you think it a happy suggestion, Miss Graham } ” 

‘‘Yes ; if Miss Preston will go. She ought to 
preside as hostess, for we are indebted to her for 
the Hall project.” 

“ I am sure she will go. Miss Graham.” 

“ Really, Mr. Forrest, you seem to speak with 
a great deal of confidence ! Have you made such 
progress in your acquaintance that you can posi- 
tively assert what Miss Preston will or will not 
do ? ” Alice asked the question laughingly, but 
pointedly. 

“ We all know how much interest she has taken 
in the enterprise, and we know, too, how ready she 
is to help us along,” replied Mr. Forrest very 
coolly. 


A CAPITAL IDEA. 


235 


“ But will not everybody feel at liberty to call 
on us there ? ” asked Miss Graham. She had 
always been one of the rigidly exclusives, and the 
idea of a promiscuous social gathering seemed of 
questionable propriety. 

“ Yes, Miss Graham, I hope everybody will feel 
at liberty to come ; just as much at liberty as they 
are to go to Heaven,” replied Mr. Forrest. 

“ Then the next thing they do will be to call 
upon us in our own parlors,” she replied. 

“ Not at all. Miss Graham. There are some 
places where * the rich and the poor, the high and 
the low ’ meet together on equal footing, and on 
the ground that ‘ the Lord is the Maker of them 
all.’ They meet in that way in our churches ; if 
they do not it is the churches’ sin and shame, 
and they will meet in Heaven on common ground. 
We want our Hall to be another place where the 
social distinctions are for the time set aside, and 
where you, who have been so highly favored, may 
go and exert your influence to lift up and refine 
those whom God has put lower in the social scale. 
Even an angel from Heaven might be glad to 
come to earth on such a mission. We shall not 
receive the blessing nor bestow the full benefit of 


I 


236 


A CAPITAL IDEA. 


the work we have undertaken unless we go and 
give our personal influence in some such way.” 

“ I confess I had not supposed any such thing 
would be expected of us, but I am fully committed 
to the work, and will do all I can to help along.” 

“ Then, if we receive at the Hall, we must plan 
for serving refreshments,” said Alice. 

“ That can easily be done,” said Mr. Dearborn, 
who was one of the warmest advocates of the 
enterprise. He was already beginning to see its 
benefits upon the young men of the place. “ We 
can have a small stove put up in the little room 
next to the gymnasium — the dressing-room, you 
know — and we can get some one to make coffee 
and chocolate, and to keep a supply of hot oyster 
soup and fried oysters. The other refreshments 
can be carried from our homes, and the tables can 
be set in the rear of the Hall.” 

“Yes; that is perfectly feasible. But are you 
not afraid that if a general invitation is given to 
all the young men in town to call there on New 
Year’s day or evening, many who are very rough 
will come for the sake of the refreshments, and 
behave rudely, and make it disagreeable for us ? ” 
asked Miss Graham. 


A CAPITAL IDEA. 


237 


Mr. Forrest smiled. If they come and behave 
as rudely as I have seen society people do at 
receptions in Washington, I will certainly have 
the police take them away. But, seriously, you 
need not be afraid. Those who come will consider 
it an honor to be invited, and a great privilege to 
be waited upon by your fair hands, and will be on 
their best behavior.” 

Didn’t he turn that compliment gracefully, 
Alice asked* Miss Graham. 

That is irresistible ! ” exclaimed Mr. Dear- 
born. ^ Sink or swim, live or die, survive or 
perish,’ as the immortal Patrick Henry once re- 
marked, you must give ‘heart and hand,’ young 
women, not necessarily to Mr. Forrest, but to this 
work of Mr. Forrest’s.” 

“ I will see that the oysters are furnished, also 
coffee, chocolate, sugar, crackers, and the little 
et ceteras, and you can plan for the other refresh- 
ments,” Mr. Forrest continued. “ Mr. Dearborn, 
have you any idea where we can get a small 
stove 

“ Yes, indeed ; at the stove store ! ” 

“ Is that so ? I thought they only sold pianos. 
But we don’t propose to buy a new one, if we can 


A CAPITAL ID£A; 


^38 

induce some friend to give us a second-han’d 
stove.” 

“If I am not much mistaken, there is a very 
respectable old cooking-stove in my mother’s sum- 
mer kitchen. I will interview her on the subject,” 
said Mr. Dearborn. 

His powers of imagination being so well known, 
no one dared place implicit confidence either in 
the existence, or the reputable condition of the 
stove, if it had an existence outside of Mr. Dear- 
born’s brain. Alice Mayse arranged the matter 
satisfactorily by saying, “ Well, we shall depend 
on you to put a stove in the dressing-room, Mr. 
Dearborn.” 

“ I will do it ; ” and when he said he would do a 
thing he never left the performance to his imagi- 
nation. That was one of his many good traits. 

“ But what else can we do to entertain our visi- 
tors } ” asked Alice. 

“What would you do if you kept open house 
here, at your home.?” asked Mr. Forrest. 

“ Dress in my loveliest gown, wear my sweetest 
smile, and talk in my most agreeable manner ; 
make myself, in every way, as charming and fasci- 
nating as possible.” 


A CAPITAL IDEA. 


^39 


“ Then you are bound to do precisely that when 
you go to the Hall,” answered Mr. Forrest. 

But I am afraid that will be casting ” — 

“ Don’t finish the quotation, please, for it is not 
appropriate. You do not understand these young 
men who will probably call. They are the clerks 
from the stores, and the workmen from the shops. 
They have self-respect enough to resent any seem- 
ing condescension on your part, and intelligence 
sufficient to appreciate your very best manners, 
and a regard for the beautiful that will not under- 
rate your sweetest smile or loveliest gown. You 
may lift your eyes incredulously when I tell you 
that, save for the accident of birth and early ad- 
vantages, some of them are quite the peers of even 
Mr. Dearborn and myself ! Preposterous, isn’t it ? 
but it is true. Intellectually, they are not inferior 
to the young men of your set. Miss Alice. Mor- 
ally — well. I’ll not enlarge on that head.” And 
Mr. Forrest added, “You need not expect the young 
men of Shanty Town to honor you, or us, by their 
presence. It will take time to work down into 
that social stratum ; but I am not without hope we 
may some day do it.” 

“ Mr. Forrest, we shall depend upon you to in- 


240 


A CAPITAL IDEA. 


terest Miss Preston in our plans,” said Miss Gra- 
ham, as the two walked home to Dr. Graham’s in 
the starlight. 

“Yes; I will see her very soon, and you had 
better see her, too, and arrange your programme 
for the day.” 

“ I wish we could persuade her to sing a few of 
her lovely selections. I think her singing would be 
a revelation to the young men we hope will call.” 

“ Then you hope they will call, do you ? I 
thought you were afraid they might.” 

“ Mr. P'orrest, I confess my prejudices are strong, 
and probably foolish. But I hope I have some 
realization of my responsibility, and some wish 
to exert a good influence over those who can be 
benefited in any way by me. I am not altogether 
frivolous ; do you think I am ” 

“ Not by any means. But we all had settled 
down into our old ways, and needed some such 
stirring up as Miss Preston has given us. Now 
as she has shown us a way to work, I am sur- 
prised at the enthusiasm with which we are all 
taking hold.” 

“ I must confess life seems to be better worth 
living now.” 


A CAPITAL IDEA. 


241 


‘‘ Yes, Miss Graham ; and we have a Master who 
is well worth our serving.” 

“ I find it hard, though, to realize that He takes 
any interest in these little things we are doing.” 

“ Miss Graham, I am just learning to feel that 
there is no comparative degree with Him. The 
way in which you wash a Shanty Town baby’s face 
is as important to Him as the way in which a 
planet rolls. A word of yours that may give 
a plain young man an aspiration for a better life 
is as important in His sight as the eloquence of 
a Spurgeon.” 

“ Why do you think so ? ” 

Don’t you remember the parable of the talents, 
Miss Graham ” 

- Yes.” 

“The man who had but one talent given him 
was held to as strict accountability as the man 
who had ten.” 

“ Yes ; I see. I understand now. We shall 
have to account for the proper use and improve- 
ment of our talents, regardless of their number or 
value.” 

“ Precisely. I am only just coming into a re- 
alization of the fact, but it makes me feel like 


242 


A CAPITAL IDEA. 


slighting no opportunity of doing good, even in 
the humblest and most insignificant particulars.” 

“ I confess it frightens me when I think of it 
in that way. It makes life seem like a grinding 
task, and the lash of duty and responsibility seems 
always swinging about my head to hurry me on,” 
said Miss Graham. 

“You must not look at it in that light. Can 
you not take pleasure in doing all these things for 
Love’s sweet sake : love for Him who first loved 
us, and gave Himself to redeem us .? ” Mr. For- 
rest’s voice was tender and reverent. He did not 
often reveal his inner self so frankly. 

Miss Graham’s hand trembled on Mr. Forrest’s 
arm, but she made no reply. 

“ I think the Master wants us to serve him 
lovingly, gladly, joyfully ; with more smiles than 
tears, more happy laughter than heavy groans. 
If we love Him, it will be delightful to work for 
Him, and we shall think more of the privilege, and 
less of the duty.” 

“ But if one keeps these things always in mind, 
it makes life so serious, Mr. Forrest.” 

“ Life is serious, whether we think of our duties 
and responsibilities or not ; but it does not follow 


A CAPITAL IDEA. 


243 


that because it is serious it is therefore sad, does 
it ? Who are the happiest people we know in this 
town, Miss Graham ? ” 

“ Well, I should say your mother, and my father, 
and old Mrs. Benson.” 

“-Yet they have all had their full share of 
trouble ? ” 

“ Y es ; but they are getting old, and these things, 
I mean duties and responsibilities, come more easily 
to them than to the young, Mr. Forrest.” 

“ Well, why not say that these duties are 
privileges, and so specially appropriate to the 
young.!* ” 

“This is what troubles me, Mr. Forrest. You 
know how shocked we all were when we first met 
Miss Preston because she expressed her doubt in 
the reality of religion on account of the indiffer- 
ence and half-heartedness of its professors. But 
we felt the force of her argument, and I think it 
made us more careful in our living ; and that has 
caused several questions to spring up in my mind. 
Alice Mayse and I have discussed the subject 
extensively. You know we are both church mem- 
bers, and we are asking each other whether some 
things we have been in the habit of enjoying are 


244 


A CAPITAL IDEA. 


quite consistent; and there is where my trouble 
comes in. We can’t decide the question.’* 

“ Here we are at your father’s ; if you will allow 
me to go in, we will ask him to throw some light 
on this vexed question of amusements.” 

“ Yes ; do come in.” 

Dr. Graham met them cordially ; after a few 
commonplace remarks Mr. Forrest said : 

“ Dr. Graham, we were talking about amuse- 
ments ; whether it is right for professors of 
religion to engage in them ; and we want your 
opinion.” 

Amusements ? Certainly you must have amuse- 
ments ; not as the end and sole object of living, 
but as recreation to help you do your duties and 
bear your burdens better. Put the question this 
way : ‘ Must people have recreation ? ’ and then it 
answers itself. Amusement is to be the recreation, 
not the business, of life. But innocent amusement 
may become a snare and a temptation of the ad- 
versary when carried to excess. That is the rock 
upon which so many make shipwreck. They con- 
sider amusement the sole object of their existence. 
They run after happiness, and she, butterfly-like, 
leads them a long and weary chase, and if caught 


A CAPITAL IDEA. 


MS 


she is crushed in the catching, and all her beauty 
is gone.” 

“ But, papa, I am in doubt what amusements are 
innocent. You know I have danced all my life; 
I never thought to ask the question whether it 
could possibly be wrong till lately. Tell me, papa, 
what you think ? ’’ 

My dear, if I had thought it wrong I certainly 
would not have allowed you to be ignorant of 
my opinion till now. I know very many devoted 
Christian people are utterly opposed to it. I must 
say that early education has very much to do with 
one’s ideas in regard to many things, and this is a 
case in point. As an exercise, when not carried 
to excess, it is graceful and healthful. But I want 
you to distinctly understand two things : one is, 
that I do not approve of the modern round dances ; 
the other is that the most serious objection to this 
form of amusement is that those who are fond of 
it find it difficult to indulge in it moderately. Is 
it not soj Posm ? ” 

Yes,, papa, I believe it is ; I am afraid that has 
been my experience.” 

. “ This whole subject of amusements, Mr. Forrest, 
it seems to me, is one that must be left to the 


246 


A CAPITAL IDEA. 


individual conscience. It strikes me that if young 
people are educated up to the proper ideal of 
Christian living — of Christian living as a matter of 
privilege rather than duty — they will not go far out 
of the way in their amusements. The trouble is, 
that they have no idea what to do, except to go to 
church. And that reminds me, Mr. Forrest, that 
I am much pleased with your Reading Room pro- 
ject. It is a step in the right direction, and it has 
already taken a strong hold on our young people.” 

“ You must thank Dr. Preston for the idea,” 
replied Mr. Forrest. 

“ I am inclined to think we will have to thank 
Miss Doctor for several things,” answered Dr. 
Graham warmly. 

‘‘And do you remember, Mr. Forrest, when she 
first came here we looked upon her as a publican 
and sinner, we Pharisees ? ” said Miss Graham, 
with a smile at the recollection. 

“ Miss Preston frankly acknowledges her mistake 
in blaming religion for the faults of its professors. 
But she had a high standard of duty even then ; I 
do not know that it can be much higher now ; 
but her ruling motive seems to be love to the 
Master.” 


A CAPITAL IDEA. 


247 


Dr. Graham said this earnestly. He had come 
to know Miss Preston- well in these latter days; 
they had met in many a sick-room, and by several 
dying beds, and he was beginning to acknowledge 
to himself the rare fitness of an educated, self- 
reliant, skillful, yet tender Christian woman physi- 
cian for such places ; she knew how to minister 
to a sick soul as well as to a sick body. He had 
seen more than one hand cling to hers till it 
released all hold on earth ; and he had heard her 
voice in prayer for those whose feet were crossing 
the dark river and in whose ears her tones almost 
mingled with the strains of welcome on the further 
shore. Yes, and he knew, too, more than one 
poor wretch whose life would have. gone out into 
utter blackness if she had not pointed the trem- 
bling soul to the Saviour who died for just such 
creatures. 

A death-bed repentance ” ? “ An eleventh-hour 
call ” ? True ; but, thank God ! there was a dying 
thief pardoned by Christ, and there were laborers 
called and employed at the eleventh hour. 

Mr. Forrest rose to take his leave. “By the 
way. Miss Graham, I suppose you have the latest 
news from Charley ? ” 


248 


A CAPITAL IDEA. 


She colored brightly. “ I don’t know : what 
is it .? ” 

“ He expects to come East this spring.” 

“ Does he, truly ? He has not, told me of it.” 

“ Then I am afraid I have spoiled a plan to 
surprise you. You need not mention to him that 
I have told you, unless you think best.” Mr. 
Forrest lifted his hat gracefully, with a “Good- 
night, Miss Graham ! good-night. Doctor ! ” and 
went out. 

Miss Preston had never heard of Charley Forrest, 
his brother, and of course did not know what every 
one else in Eagle’s Mere knew perfectly well, that 
Miss Graham was engaged to Charley Forrest. 
Patience had taken for granted, seeing the con- 
stant intimacy between the two, that Mr. For- 
rest and Miss Graham were affianced lovers : she 
thought them admirably suited to each other, and 
honestly considered Miss Graham was to be con- 
gratulated for her choice. 

This mistake had put Mr. Forrest and Patience on 
very easy footing, as Patience felt perfect freedom 
in his society, and it never occurred to her that he 
could possibly entertain other than friendly, not 
sentimental, feeling towards her ; so it came to 


A CAPITAL IDEA. 


249 


pass that his microscopic investigations, under 
the direction of Miss Preston, were most indefati- , 
gably pursued, and she never dreamed that she 
was under the glass. 

Christmas morning Mr. Forrest called at Dr. 
Graham’s and left a little newspaper slip for Miss 
Graham, with the message that “ The unpretending 
lines are so much in the line of our talk last even- 
ing I am sure you will enjoy them.” The poem 
proved to be on the subject of serving the Master 
in the smallest and most humble ways, and was 
entitled — 

FOR THY SAKE. 

With the light of the early morning 
I open my weary eyes, 

And ponder over the ceaseless round 
Of toil that before me lies. 

My life seems empty and useless, 

Spent in humblest household care; 

No time to work for the Master ; 

Hardly a moment to spare 

For sowing the. seed of the kingdom - 
In the world’s great harvest fields 

Seed that the Lord has promised 
Abundant harvest shall vield. 


A CAPITAL idea. 


I take up the Book beside me, 

And think, as I open to read, 

“ If only my Father in Heaven 

Would send me the message I need I 


‘Tis a faint and faithless prayer. 

But my eye is caught by the word, 
“ Whether ye eat or whether drink, 
Do all as unto the Lord.” 

A still and solemn rapture 

Fills my whole heart at the sight, 
And the life that seemed so useless 
Glows with a radiance bright. 


I close the precious volume. 

Then kneel for a moment in prayer. 
And the Master walks beside me 
As I go through my round of care. 


I lay my hands to each burden 
And say, “ for Thy dear sake,” 
And the homely life grows holy 
As my tasks new meaning take. 


Each night I am worn and weary. 
But I tell the Master all ; 

How I am trying to serve Him ; 
How often I falter and fall. 


A CAPITAL IDEA. 


251 


Still, for love’s sake, I am striving 
My lowly place to fill ; 

“ As unto the Lord,” my motto — 

My pleasure to do His will. 

Miss Graham’s eyes were filled with tears when 
she finished reading, but a new light had dawned 
upon her soul. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 


THE NEW year’s RECEPTION. 



EW YEAR’S DAY came on Wednesday. 


X \l The “ Luminary,” on Monday and Tues- 
day evening, announced that “ open house ” would 
be kept at the Reading Room on New Year’s, and 
invited the men of Eagle’s Mere to call. This 
invitation was intended to include old as well as 
young. 

It was wonderful what a hold the Reading 
Room had taken upon the young people. One 
reason for this, and a very prominent reason, too, 
was the fact that Mr. Forrest had championed the 
project from the first. It was considered quite 
safe, even by the most exclusive circle in Eagle’s 
Mere, to follow Mr. Forrest’s leadership. There 
was no break in his genealogy back for several 
generations. 

Mr. Dearborn was equally interested. He and 
Mr. Forrest were fast friends, notwithstanding the 


253 


THE NEW year’s RECEPTION. 


253 


disparity in age ; but Mr. Dearborn was rapidly 
outgrowing his pride in his extreme youth, and 
was less often heard to refer to himself as “ the 
youngest member of the Eagle’s Mere bar.” In 
fact, he was finding a satisfaction in living to some 
extent outside himself ; a new experience to him. 

The preparations at the hall were on an elabo- 
rate scale. The rooms were decorated with holly 
and pine ; the tables were loaded with dainty re- 
freshments such as the housekeepers of Eagle’s 
Mere excelled in providing. Before ten o’clock 
Miss Preston, Miss Graham, Alice Mayse, and six or 
eight other girls, as well as several of the younger 
married women of the place, were in readiness 
to receive calls. Each had dressed herself as 
tastefully as if ‘‘ receiving ” in her own parlor. 
Miss Preston, in her dress of ruby velvet and 
satin, trimmed with iridescent beads, and wearing 
exquisite lace at her throat and wrists, was a rev- 
elation to all. Hitherto she had only worn soft 
gray or black dresses, of severest cut and make, 
which were admirably adapted to her work. But 
the ruby velvet was wonderfully becoming, and 
set off her face to great advantage. Every eye 
looked at her admiringly as she entered the Hall, 


254 


THE NEW YEAR S RECEPTION. 


perfectly unaware of the sensation she was . 
making. « 

“ Magnificent woman ! ” said Mr. Dearborn as 
she gracefully made her way past him and sat 
down by the side of an embarrassed-looking young 
man who had come very early and seemed quite 
lost in the gay crowd of young people with which 
the room was filled up. 

She understood his embarrassment, and also 
how to overcome it, and before the young man 
fairly knew it, he was talking readily and naturally 
to the most stylish-looking woman in the Hall ! 
The tact that had been so useful to her in her 
profession came in good play now. 

“ Do you like the decorations of the Hall ? ” 
This was her first question. 

The young man glanced around. He had an 
intelligent face, and evidently had ideas of his 
own, if one could only draw them out. 

“Yes ; they are beautiful.” 

“ Were do you get the holly ? ” 

“ It grows on the hills, not far away.” 

“ Does the rhododendron grow around here ? ” 
“Yes, indeed; and there is something very 
peculiar about the rhododendron, too. The flower- 


THE NEW year’s RECEPTION. 


255 


buds are formed in the fall for the next summer’s 
blooming. ‘ If you cut one open now you will find 
the delicate pink of the future flower.” 

“ That is remarkable, indeed. But what won- 
derful things Nature does, and how many lovely 
things she hides away, just as she hides the pink 
of the rhododendron buds ! Did you ever examine 
the different parts of a flower under a micro- 
scope ” 

“ No ; I have never seen a microscope.” 

“Then you ought to see a fern-leaf — just the 
smallest bit of a fern-leaf — under a good magni- 
fier. You know the rows of brown dots on the 
back of the ferns ? that is the fruit, and under a 
powerful magnifying-glass these dots seem to be 
beautiful berries, as perfect as a raspberry. I 
think there is a book in the library here that has 
a picture showing a magnified section of a fern- 
leaf. Let us go and look at it.” 

It was a triumphant moment for the bashful 
young man when he walked across the room with 
Miss Preston by his side, and many an envious 
eye was turned upon him. The book was speedily 
found, and soon a circle of interested listeners sur- 
rounded Miss Preston, as she explained the pict- 


256 


THE NEW year’s RECEPTION. 


ures of various objects as seen under a magnifier* 
A new field of thought was opened up to some of 
those young men, and it would be very strange if 
they were not led to investigate further into the 
wonderful mysteries of Nature ; and the upward 
path once chosen, whither might it not lead ? 

Miss Graham and Alice Mayse, as well as the 
other girls, took their cue from Miss Preston, and 
devoted themselves to interesting and entertaining 
the more diffident of their callers. The decora- 
tions of the room, the pictures, the library, all 
furnished material for conversation. Occasionally 
some one sat down and played a simple piece of 
music on the organ, and Miss Preston was asked 
to sing, and each time she had an appreciative 
throng of people around her. 

Certainly every man who called was on his best 
behavior. Mr. Forrest had prudently engaged a 
policeman to be present, but after an hour or two 
that official had so satisfactorily gauged the temper 
of the coming and going crowd that he did not deem 
his services necessary, and quietly left the Hall, 
only returning at intervals to take a glance into 
the room to make sure his confidence was not 
misplaced. 


THE NEW year’s RECEPTION. 


257 


Many of the young men lived in the plainest 
and most comfortless boarding-houses, and seldom 
sat down to an appetizing meal ; yet they con- 
ducted themselves with a propriety at the refresh- 
ment tables that quite surprised and delighted 
their entertainers. Some few of them looked 
questioningly upon the mysterious squares of 
white linen that were furnished each one with his 
plate, evidently having never made the acquaint- 
ance of table napkins ; but a glance at some one 
more familiar with the usages of polite society 
gave them the clew to the mystery, and they vent- 
ured to unfold the shining damask and use it, if 
awkwardly, yet effectually. 

Later in the day the Hall was filled with young 
men, and older ones, of a different class. Dr. 
Graham was there, and Dr. Moorhead, both of 
whom were now sincere and admiring friends of Dr. 
Preston, and both earnest well-wishers to the new 
enterprise. They soon saw Patience standing 
near the center of the room, and went up to her. 

“ Let me congratulate you. Miss Doctor, on the 
remarkable success of this whole affair,” said Dr. 
Graham heartily. “ In which congratulation I 
join,” added Dr. Moorhead. 


258 


THE NEW YEAR S RECEPTION. 


Patience simply answered : “ I deserve no credit 
except for a mere suggestion. Mr. Forrest, Mr. 
Dearborn and several others have elaborated my 
idea, and here you begin to see results.” 

“ And only begin, I hope ; but it is a good 
beginning,” answered Dr. Graham. 

Just then Dr. Forbes and Dr. Jones, arm in arm, 
sauntered near. 

“ Here, Brother Forbes ! Brother Jones ! I want 
to introduce you to a recent comer into our ranks. 
Dr. Preston, let me make you acquainted with Dr. 
Forbes and Dr. Jones,” said Dr. Moorhead. “ You 
doctors ought to become acquainted now if you 
have not before.” 

Patience bowed graciously. Nothing in her 
look or manner indicated that she had ever met 
them before. The men were shrewd enough to 
see that she was in the good graces of Dr. Graham 
and Dr. Moorhead, the leading practitioners of 
Eagle’s Mere, of all that region, in fact. They 
could not afford either to snub her or ignore her, 
as they had once done. Evidently she had kept 
the fact of their unmanly treatment of her to her- 
self. They had grace enough to be ashamed of 
the affair as they remembered it after their anger 


THE NEW year’s RECEPTION. 


259 


died away, so each extended a hand with a cor- 
dial, “ I am glad to make your acquaintance. Dr. 
Preston.’* 

Yea, verily, a large-sized stumbling-stone had 
been rolled aside and out of the way ! 

The visitors came and went. Sometimes the 
Hall was well-filled, and again but few were pres- 
ent. Most of the people who called appeared to 
be very friendly to the enterprise. Of course 
some were skeptical as to any good results. A 
sour-looking, middle-aged man, after making a tour 
of the Reading Room and gymnasium, and a long 
stop at the refreshment table, where he conscien- 
tiously tried to test the quality of every edible, 
asked an acquaintance whom he afterward met, — 

“ Do you suppose these young people think 
they are going to reform this town, and bring 
about the millenium, by means of a few books and 
newspapers, a pair of dumb bells and a turning- 
pole ? It strikes me they will find the means in- 
adequate to the end.” 

To which his friend replied, “ Oh ! they are too 
wise to attempt the experiment on us old fellows. 
It would take more than they can show here to 
reform us.” 


26 o the new year’s reception. 

Another middle-aged man, who had evidently 
made previous calls at places where stronger re- 
freshments than those served at the Hall had been 
indulged in by him, took possession of Mr. Dear- 
born. The young lawyer convoyed him around 
the room, but nothing seemed to interest him very 
much till he reached one of the well-spread tables. 
He sat down by it with a sigh of great content, 
and his eye wandered inquiringly over the viands. 

“ Will you have a cup of coffee ? ” It was Alice 
Mayse who asked the question, with a sweet, win- 
ning smile. 

“ If you please. Miss,” making as dignified a 
bow as his condition would admit of. 

He tasted the coffee critically, and then put it 
down with elaborate carefulness on the table 
beside him. 

The man was well-known in Eagle’s Mere. In 
his early days he had been considered a young 
man of more than common ability ; in fact, he 
was the pride and boast of the town. He belonged 
to a “ good family,” as the current phrase went, 
and had enjoyed every advantage of education and 
travel that money could command. But it was 
the old, sad story. He learned to love the wine- 


THE NEW year’s RECEPTION. 


261 


cup. The excitement of stimulants gave brilliancy 
to his imagination, and force to his words, and 
sparkle to his wit. Friends expostulated with him 
in vain. They told him of his danger, but he 
laughed at their warnings ; and all the time the 
habit was binding him, soul and body, with its 
relentless iron fetters. 

That was many New Years before this one; 
and now the wreck of that man sat beside the 
table and tried to steady his reeling brain, and to 
conduct himself with the propriety that, even in 
his condition, he recognized was due to the com- 
pany and the occasion. If an object lesson had 
been needed, setting forth the necessity of some 
such saving institution as the promoters of the 
Reading Room hoped it would be, here was the 
lesson. The man himself, John Hodgson, seemed 
to have a dim sense of that fact, for he said, 
addressing the young people around him, — “ I’ve 
been wandering around town all day trying to get 
the young men to come here. It’s going to be a 
good thing ; indeed it is,” nodding his head in an 
emphatic manner. His words were sadly clipped 
and confused, but no one felt like smiling ; indeed, 
who can smile in the presence of a self-ruined soul.^ 


262 


THE NEW year’s RECEPTION. 


He took another sip of coffee, holding the cup 
very carefully in his trembling hands, lest he drop 
it, and then he went on, — “ Why did not some one 
think of something like this when I was a young 
man ? There was no place for me to go except the 
saloons ; and now look at me ! ” he added, with a 
burst of maudlin tears. 

It was a painful scene, but perhaps a profitable 
one. There were other young men in the room 
who had started on the same career, and only the 
grace of God, and all the restraining influences 
that could be thrown around them, could keep 
them from following in John Hodgson’s footsteps. 
Did they realize their danger as they looked at 
him } 

Mr. Forrest was standing near Patience, and 
both were watching the group at the table. A 
sad expression rested on Miss Preston’s face. Mr. 
Forrest noted it, and could divine the cause. 

“ I feel so utterly powerless in presence of a soul 
so fallen from its high estate ! Disease, however 
severe or hopeless it seems, affects me differently. 
I always work with some degree of hope, at least 
to prolong life as long as life lasts. But in a case 
like this there is absolutely nothing to do.” 


THE NEW year’s RECEPTION. 


263 


*‘Then prevention is the more necessary, Miss 
Preston.” 

“ So it is. But it seems so dreadful to see those 
men who might have done so much for themselves, 
their friends, and the world, going down to the 
blackness of darkness ! Many of them were once 
so full of hope and ambition ! and they all have 
friends whose hearts are breaking in anguish at 
their worse than wasted lives. My only comfort 
is that, in the final day, the Judge will put the 
fearful responsibility of ruining these souls where 
it rightly belongs.” 

“ Where does it belong. Miss Preston ? ” 

“The responsibility rests upon the men and 
women who mould public sentiment. It rests 
upon those who can indulge to a safe extent, and 
then stop, and, in their self-indulgence, forget that 
their example is influencing those who are not so 
constituted, and who, encouraged by that example, 
take the first glass, and, having tasted, must keep 
on. It rests upon Christian men and women 
who, while recognizing the fact that the use of 
wine, and ale, and beer to a moderate extent, is 
not in itself wrong, are not willing to give it up 
entirely for the sake of those who cannot use 


264 the new year's reception. 

it in moderation. People sometimes call me a 
‘crank’ on this subject, Mr. Forrest ; but it must 
be admitted that if I err, it is on the safe side.” 

“ I believe you are right, but I confess candidly 
that I am a recent convert to your opinion.” 

“ Mr. Forrest, that man — what did you say his 
name is ? ” 

“John Hodgson.” 

“ Well, he seems disposed to talk. Suppose 
you ask him what the early influences were that 
brought him to his present condition ? Do you 
think he will resent it } ” 

“ O, no! he has gone too far for that.” 

They moved up near the table and listened a few 
moments to the conversation that was going on 
around John Hodgson, who was still lamenting 
that it was too late for anything to do him any 
good. The strong coffee had sobered him, and 
he was talking more connectedly. 

“Mr. Hodgson,” said Mr. Forrest, “have you 
any objections to telling us what the early in- 
fluences were that you are deploring ? ” 

The man looked up at Mr. Forrest suspiciously. 
He was quite accustomed to ridicule, and to being 
made an object of derision, but polite interest in 


THE NEW year’s RECEPTION. 


265 


himself or his history was something he seldom 
met in his later years. Mr. Forrest’s face reas- 
sured him. He saw only genuine sympathy there, 
and he answered slowly : — 

“ Well, my father always kept the best wine and 
whiskey in the house, and he drank it, too, and it 
did not hurt him. He could take one glass, and be 
satisfied, but if I took one glass I always wanted 
two more. Father used to say a man was a fool 
who could not stop drinking when he had taken 
all that was good for him ; he never had any 
trouble to do it. I suppose I was a fool, for I 
could not stop after I once commenced.” 

“ The sins of the father visited upon the child,” 
said Miss Preston, in a whisper, to Mr. Forrest. 

** Then when we young men went out to spend 
the evening with the young women, — there was a 
gay crowd of us young men,” he added reflectively, 
as his mind drifted into the happy long-gone past ; 
“ there was Tom Price : poor Tom ! he died 
years ago, of delirium tremens, the doctor said ; 
and there was Henry Wilson, he was such a grand 
fellow, and had a first-rate start in the law business, 
and was getting on splendidly, but he died sud- 
denly, after a few days’ sickness, and, though his 


266 


THE NEW YEAR S RECEPTION. 


friends said it was brain fever, everybody knew it 
was drinking that killed him. Then there was 
George Mason ” — 

“ But what about your evening visits, Mr. 
Hodgson.^” said Mr. Forrest, interrupting the 
flow of reminiscence that bid fair to go on in- 
definitely. 

“ O, yes ! Well, before we went home, we 
always had refreshments, and there was sure to be 
wine, or punch, or mint julep, or apple toddy, or 
eggnog — something to drink, at any rate — and 
we often took too much. But the worst of it was 
that when we went away, we were not satisfied till we 
stopped at a saloon and had something more. You 
see if a man likes whiskey or any kind of drink, 
when he once gets a taste of it he cannot stop with 
a little. He keeps on until he has too much, and 
you know the consequences. I tell you what, 
young men, if I were young again, nothing in this 
world would induce me to touch a drop of any kind 
of liquor, not even beer. It is a thousand times 
easier to stop before you begin than afterwards. 
Take warning by me,” he added, as he rose to his 
feet, “ take warning by me, and don’t form the 
dreadful habit.” 


tHE NEW YEARNS RECEPTION. 


267 


He bowed again to the circle around him — the 
old instinct of politeness was not lost, fallen though 
John Hodgson was from his early estate — and 
started to leave the Hall. Mr. Forrest accompa- 
nied him to the door. 

“Do you think, Mr. Forrest, that this thing is 
going to dry up the saloons ? All the saloon 
keepers are down on it, but I say it is a grand* 
idea — a grand idea,” and the poor man looked 
around the room more appreciatively than when 
he came in. “ Yes, it is a grand idea, but it is too 
late for me ! I had my chance once, and a man 
can’t live his life over again ; if I could live mine 
over again it would be a different life. Good- 
by!” 

John Hodgson shook Mr. Forrest’s hand heartily, 
recognizing in him one who would help him in any 
effort he might make towards a better life, and 
then he walked slowly away. Mr. Forrest stood 
at the door watching him as he made his way 
down the street, and half-hoping some good im- 
pression had been made that would be abiding. No 
doubt the man had sincerely felt all he had said. 
No doubt he had longings to burst the fetters that 
bound him, and to escape the fearful thraldom. 


268 


THE NEW year’s RECEPTION. 


But his will-power was gone, and, in presence of 
his destroyer, he was helpless. So whatever good 
resolutions he may have made when he left the 
Hall, they were just strong enough to carry him 
to the door of the nearest saloon, and, even while 
Mr. Forrest stood looking after him, he saw him 
enter the place where he had lost soul and body. 

♦Mr. Forrest turned and went into the Hall. He 
realized more fully than ever before what they had 
undertaken, and he felt for a moment very much 
as the critic of the afternoon had expressed it : 
the means seemed very inadequate to bring about 
the desired results. Still he could but hope that 
some little good might be accomplished, with God’s 
blessing. They must have that, if any real good 
was to be done. John Hodgson was an example 
of how powerless a man is to help himself if left 
alone and unaided. Mr. Forrest had never con- 
sidered that the Reading Room was even a religious 
institution, strictly speaking, much less that it 
was to take the place of any religious institution, 
but he had hoped and prayed that an influence 
might commence there that would finally and 
naturally lead the young people into the church. 
But, though wholly a secular affair, they needed 


THE NEW year’s RECEPTION. 


269 


God’s blessing and guidance ; there was no doubt 
about that. 

After the visitors had all left — it was nearly 
nine o’clock in the evening : — the young people who 
had been busily engaged all day, gathered around 
one of the refreshment tables on which had been 
placed hot coffee and oysters, and they discussed 
the events of the day. 

“ Well, are you all satisfied ? ” A young man, 
who had been rather skeptical in regard to the 
plan, but who had finally entered enthusiastically 
into it, asked the question. 

“ Yes.” 

“ Fully ? ” 

“ Yes, and no.” 

“ More than satisfied.” 

. “ Pleased with the future prospects even better 
than with the day’s performance.” 

Such were some of the replies that were made. 

‘‘ We have had very little experience of the 
hydropathic treatment in this case,” said Miss 
Preston. 

Alice Mayse looked up wonderingly. “The 
rest of us don’t know as much about these pathics 
as you do. Please explain.” 


270 


THE NEW year’s RECEPTION. 


“ She means wet blankets and cold water douche 
baths,” replied Miss Graham. 

A ray of light broke upon Alice Mayse. 
“ Stupid, wasn’t I I had only one little damper 

to my delight. I overheard Mrs. I am not 

going to tell you her name — say she thought it 
was very improper for us to be so polite to such 
very plain people. She presumed they would be 
calling upon us at our homes very soon.” 

“ And I,” said another person, “ heard a woman 
say she thought these indiscriminate gatherings 
were very demoralizing : but I took great pleasure 
in replying that the saloons and variety theatres 
are equally so. As her only son is a frequent 
visitor at these places, I trust she understood my 
allusion.” 

We must not for one minute think we are 
going to revolutionize the town, or work a great 
moral reform all at once by means of our efforts 
here,” remarked Mr. Forrest. “ If we can do 
anything towards elevating public sentiment by 
inducing some of the young men to substitute 
these refining amusements and occupations for the 
saloon and the low theatre we shall be well repaid 
for our labors. We may be able to place only a 


THE NEW year’s RECEPTION. 


271 


very small obstruction on their downward path- 
way ; still, if it is sufficient to make them stop and 
think where they are going, it will be a point 
gained. We must not expect too much, and then 
we shall not be easily disappointed. The work 
will often seem discouraging, but we must keep 
steadily on ; and we must remember that strength 
to do this is not of ourselves ; it must come from 
beyond and above ourselves. Let us feel our 
dependence upon God, whose work, I trust, it is.” 

Patience glanced around at the earnest young 
faces, and thought, with a pang of self-reproach, 
“ Are these the young people I fancied so frivolous 
a few short months ago ? ” 

“ Sing for us, Miss Preston, before we go home,” 
pleaded one of the young girls as they finally left 
the table, after a long and pleasant talk. 

What shall I sing ^ ” 

“ Something that you sung here once before — 
the day we fitted up the room, it was. It has rung 
in my ears ever since.” 

“ What was it .? ” 

Nearer Home,’ I think it was called.” 

Patience knew what she referred to, and then 
others echoed the request, so she sat down and 


2/2 


THE NEW year’s RECEPTION. 


played her own accompaniment while she sang 
the beautiful words of Phoebe Cary. They were 
peculiarly appropriate for the New Year, and the 
pathos of her voice added an indescribable charm 
to the sentiments of the poet. 

Certainly many souls had been lifted a little 
higher, and set a little farther on the Heavenward 
way by that New Year’s experience. 

Mr. Forrest walked home with Patience; neither 
of them talked much, but they felt better acquainted 
with each other than ever before. If Mr. Forrest 
recognized a warmer feeling than friendship in his 
regard. Patience did not suspect it. 

She went into the office, and found her mother’s 
trunk packed, and her mother ready to start to 
New York the next morning. 

Another of those long, yellow, legal-looking en- 
velopes had been taken from the post-office that 
day after Patience went to the Hall. 


CHAPTER XXV. 

A “SISTER DORA.” 

T he next morning Mrs. Preston started for 
New York; Patience went with her to the 
train, found a pleasant seat in the parlor car, and 
when she kissed her good-by whispered in her ear, 

“ Tell Dillaye I have at last learned to forgive.” 

“ Thank God ! ” was all Mrs. Preston could say ; 
and then the conductor rang the bell and Patience^ 
left the cars, and the rushing train was soon beyond 
sight and hearing. 

Two weeks later Mrs. Preston came home ; Pa- 
tience met her at the depot. 

“ You look ten years younger, mother ! The 
trip has done you so much good ! ’’.exclaimed Pa- 
tience, when Mrs. Preston stepped off the car. 
“ Now, you dear old mother, let me tuck you 
under my arm and take you home ; are you able 
to walk ” 

“Walk the little distance to our home. Patience.^ 


273 


274 


A “SISTER DORA.” 


I feel so light-hearted I think I could walk back 
to New York if necessary.” 

“ I know what that means, mother! You have 
good news.” 

“ God has been very good to us, and he has 
answered our prayers. O, my child 1 I think we 
ought to walk humbly before him all our days 
henceforth, for his compassion upon us.” 

“Tell me all about it; and about Dillaye, 
mother.” 

“ I will, after we get home.” And she told her 
story to Patience as the two sat by the warm fire in 
the cosey office, Mrs. Preston in a large, comfort- 
able arm-chair, with a soft cushion for her head to 
rest upon ; and as she related it the tears fell from 
her daughter’s eyes like rain. When the story was 
finished Patience drew a long breath, as if a great 
load had been lifted from her heart 

“ Now, mother dear, you must have a good long 
rest. I hope your days of anxiety are over, and 
that the remainder of your life may be spent in 
peace and freedom from care. You have truly 
passed through much tribulation, and ought now 
to reap the peaceful fruits. I am going out to 
hurry up Sally’s deliberate footsteps, and to hasten 


A “ SISTER DORA. 


275 


dinner ; then you are to lie down and rest as long 
as you feel like it.” 

Patience started out, but stopped for a moment 
to pass her hand caressingly over her mother’s 
soft white hair, and then she stooped down and 
kissed the pale tired face. “ It seems good to 
have you here again, and to think — ” And she 
went out to expedite Sally’s slow movements. 

The week following Mrs. Preston’s return the 
lecture on Microscopy, that Mr. Forrest had pre- 
pared with such painstaking, was given in the 
Reading Room. It was a free lecture, and it was 
illustrated by the aid of Dr. Preston’s powerful 
microscope, which threw up on the screen marvel 
ously ugly monsters disporting in a drop of water 
taken, the previous autumn, from a wayside ditch, 
and kept till now in a glass jar. The hydrant 
water also held numerous living creatures, so fero- 
cious in aspect and so insatiable in appetite, that 
the magnified view of them was almost enough to 
make one abjure water as a beverage. 

The lecture was simply scientific enough to be 
accurate, but aimed rather to interest those who 
knew little of the wonders of nature as revealed 
under the microscope. Many objects were magni- 


2y6 


A “SISTER DORA.’ 


fied before the audience, and each new picture on ^ 
the screen drew forth loud exclamations of sur- 
prise and admiration. For two hours the crowd 
listened and gazed, wondered and admired, and 
when the lecture closed a number of young men 
approached Mr. Forrest with an urgent request to 
be formed into a class in microscopy. The class 
was organized then and there, and an impetus given 
to some lives that took them away from low associ- 
ates and started them on a career of usefulness. 

Not a religious lecture } 

No, not strictly speaking ; but Mr. Forrest led 
his audience “from nature up to nature’s God,” 
and impressed at least this lesson : that nothing is 
beneath God’s notice ; nothing too small for him 
to provide for, and if he has so wondrously organ- 
ized the minutest living creatures, and cares for 
their daily and hourly needs, surely he will not 
forget to provide for us, his children ! 

Ministers are sometimes severely criticised for 
stepping aside from their peculiar and proper work 
of saving souls and devoting a part of their time 
and strength to scientific pursuits. But they often 
find their happiest illustrations in this very field. 
There is strict concord between natural and re- 


A SISTER DORA.” 


277 


vealed religion. The man or woman who is dis- 
couraged and disheartened, who fears that God 
has forgotten them, or will not provide for them, 
will often get a lesson of faith and trust by a 
knowledge of God’s care for his lowliest creatures. 
Christ himself, the Teacher sent from God, who 
spake as never man spake, and taught as never 
man taught, referred his disciples to the flowers 
of the fleld and the birds of the air as objects 
whose study would confirm their faith in an all- 
wise, all-loving Father. ^He knew, our sympathiz- 
ing elder Brother, how often our hearts would fail 
us in the heat and burden of the day. He knew 
how, in our toil for daily bread, the question. 
What shall I eat and what shall I drink ? would 
often seem impossible to aqswer. He knew how 
anxiously the problems of life would be studied, 
and how hopeless their solution seem ; but always 
before our eyes we see the grass of the field, the 
flowers of the meadow and hillside, and the birds 
of the air. So He, the wise Teacher, made them 
object lessons for all time, to His children, and as 
we look at them we again hear His tender, calm, 
persuasive voice saying, Oh ye of little faith ! 
Wherefore did ye doubt ? ” 


278 


A ‘‘SISTER DORA.” 

That lecture on Microscopy was not in vain. 
Mr Forrest prepared it from a Christian stand- 
point, and its influence was on the side of Christ, 
even though it was not a religious lecture. 

But now the evening with the microscope was a 
thing of the past, and life was going on as usual at 
Eagle’s Mere. It was a little elevated from what 
it had once been. Influences were at work that 
were slowly yet surely lifting up the young people. 
The change was not great ; not very marked. It 
did not amount to any thing like a reformation. 
Good seed had been sown, and it was quietly ger- 
minating. There was less feverish seeking after 
amusements, and more sense of personal responsi- 
bility. It was noticeable that the churches were 
better filled ; Sabbath-school teachers were easier 
to find ; week-day meetings were better attended ; 
people whose religion had consisted in the name, 
now put it in the daily living. There was nothing 
very remarkable about it, but the Kingdom of God 
cometh not with observation ! 

One morning in March a young boy rang Dr. 
Preston’s bell. 

“Can you go to Mrs. Fuller’s right away.?” 

“ Where is it .? Where does she live ? ” 


A “SISTER DORA.” 


279 


“In Shanty Town : across the street from Mrs. 
Mahoney. Jim, you know, broke his leg.” 

“ O, yes ! I know. Who is sick } ” 

“Mrs. Fuller’s girl; Mary Fuller. She’s been 
livin’ in New York, and came home last week.” 

Patience made herself ready while she was talk- 
ing, and started at once. 

She found Mrs. Fuller in a poor shanty of three 
rooms ; she was a widow, with four children. 
Mary, the eldest, was about eighteen; she had 
been at service in New York for several years, as 
child’s nurse ; she had come home on a visit the 
week before, and had been complaining for two or 
three days. 

“It just seems to be a misery in her back and 
her head, and last night she was that hot it seemed 
as if she’d burn up,” explained her mother. “ But 
she’s out of her head this morning,” she added, as 
she took Patience into the front room, where the 
sick girl was tossing on a poor, hard bed. 

Patience examined her carefully, and asked a 
few questions, but the girl was too delirious to 
reply. 

“ Mrs. Fuller, take all the children into the 
other room, and keep them there. Don’t allow 


28 o 


A “SISTER DORA.” 


them to come in here once again while Mary is 
sick. Carry out their clothes, and yours, too.” 

It was pitifully easy to obey this last command, 
for there was very little clothing, or anything else 
in the room, and it was soon cleared of everything 
but the bed on which Mary was lying, and two 
wooden chairs. There was no carpet on the floor. 

“ Now take a bucket of warm water and wipe 
up the floor. Make it as dry as possible ; you do 
not need to put much water on.” 

Patience watched her while she washed up the 
floor ; it needed it sadly. 

“ You must open that window, the one farthest 
from the bed. Raise it about’ six inches, and put 
a stick under it to hold it up. Will it come down 
from the top ? ” 

An investigation disclosed the fact that the 
accommodating window would come down from the 
top, or do almost anything else required, as the old 
sash was simply held in place by a couple of nails, 
so it was lowered six inches from the top, and a 
nail put in to keep it in position. The fresh air 
that entered was most refreshing. 

“Won’t she take cold.?” asked Mrs. Fuller, 
pointing to the bed. 


28i 


A ‘^SISTER DORA.” 

“ No, indeed. Don’t you see she is burning up 
with fever ? She will feel better for this cool, 
fresh air. Now, Mrs. Fuller, Mary will lie quietly 
for a time, because I have given her some soothing 
medicine. I am going away for a little while, but 
will be back directly. Remember what I said, 
and keep all the children out of the room. Don’t 
go in yourself unless you hear Mary call.” 

Mrs. Fuller promised to obey orders. 

Patience went straight to Dr. Graham’s office. 
He was at home, and greeted her with his usual 
warmth. • 

“ I am delighted to see you. Miss Doctor! To 
what am I indebted for this pleasure } I know 
you have a purpose in coming ; I read it in your 
face.” 

“ I want you to come with me and see a patient 
I have just been called to. She is Mrs. Fuller’s 
daughter, and has very lately come from. New 
York. I will not tell you my diagnosis till you 
see her.” 

“ Certainly I will go.” And he put on his hat 
and overcoat, and they started out into the raw 
air. 

“ A regular March day, Miss Doctor,” said Dr. 


282 


A “SISTER DORA.” 

Graham, holding his hat with one hand, as they 
made difficult progress against the wind. 

“Yes ; it is a trying month to our patients.” 

“ Have you many just now ? ” 

“ Not many at present, I am hdppy to say. Dr. 
Graham.” 

Dr. Graham laughed. 

“ We are generally supposed to thrive on other 
people’s misery, and to be happiest when most 
people are ill, of course provided they employ us 
to alleviate their sufferings. It strikes me you 
are more philanthropic than most young prac- 
titioners can afford to be, if you are ^ happy ’ to 
have few patients.” 

“You will understand me better after you see 
Mary Fuller. As a rule, if people insist on being 
ill, I would like my full share of healing them. 
You see I am just like the rest of you, Dr. 
Graham.” 

“ Only better than we are ; a great deal better. 
Miss Doctor.” 

Later he echoed the remark with additional 
emphasis ; but that was after he came away from 
Mary Fuller’s room. 

They went into the sick room together. Mrs. 


283 


A “SISTER DORA.” 

Fuller was following them, but Patience motioned 
her to go back. She closed the door, and then 
they stood by the bedside. Dr. Graham put on 
his glasses and stooped down to look at the sick 
girl more closely. The next moment he uttered 
an exclamation of surprise, gave another critical 
look at the girl, then stood upright and glanced 
at Patience. 

“ Well ? ” said she. 

“You know what it is. Miss Doctor. What is 
to be done about it ? ” 

“ I^am going to stay here and take care of her.” 

“Absurd! You are not I” 

“ Will you attend to my patients ? Here is a 
list of them,” writing rapidly, and handing him a 
paper. 

“ But, my dear Miss Doctor, you cannot even 
be half-comfortable here, aside from every other 

■N 

consideration.” 

“ Dr. Graham, is Mrs. Fuller capable of man- 
aging this case alone ? ” 

“ Of course not, with her family to look after.” 

“ Can a hired nurse be obtained to do it, even 
if Mrs. Fuller had plenty of money to pay such 
a nurse ? ” 


284 


A “SISTER DORA.” 

“ It is very doubtful, I confess.” 

“Well, you know what the consequences of in- 
attention and carelessness would be in this par- 
ticular case, Dr. Graham ” 

“ I think the girl will die, at any rate.” 

“ But is it not very desirable to stamp out the 
disease right here } ” 

“ Of course ; but how are you going to do it ? ” 

“ By staying here with this girl, and by having 
the family vaccinated, and then moved away and 
isolated till there is no possible danger of their 
spreading the contagion.” 

“ Miss Dora — no, I mean Sister Doctor. — Beg 
pardon ; I was thinking of Sister Dora ! — you are 
absolutely exposing yourself needlessly.” 

“ I do not intend to expose myself at all. I 
have had a little experience with the disease, and, 
at any rate, I have the theories. Will you tell 
Mrs. Fuller what the matter is with Mary,'^and 
that, on account of her other children, they must 
all go away ? Do you know where they could go ” 

“I will speak to Mrs. Fuller, and she may pos- 
sibly know of some relative to whom she may go, 
though that is very doubtful ; ” and Dr. Graham 
left the room for that purpose. 


A “ SISTER DORA. 


285 


Patience looked around the room, made her plans 
for the next week or two, while she would be a 
prisoner in the wretched place, gave Mary a glass 
of water, and then went into the kitchen. Dr. 
Graham had already told Mrs. Fuller of this new 
and fearful calamity that had befallen her, but the 
poor woman seemed to have endured so many and 
so often, repeated strokes of adversity, that she 
had become benumbed, and one more or less made 
scant impression. 

“Yes,” she was saying, “my sister lives all 
alone, and I know she will let me have one room,” 
and the poor soul was already gathering up her 
scanty belongings. 

“ You must all be vaccinated before you go,” said 
Dr. Preston. “ I do not think there is much dan- 
ger that they have contracted the disease yet, do 
you. Dr. Graham ? but we must be on the safe 
side,” and she quickly had the youngest child’s 
arm exposed, and, while the little fellow looked on 
with wide-open eyes and wondered what the un- 
usual proceeding meant, she had deftly performed 
the operation, and covered the spot with a bit of 
court plaster. The others were treated in the 
same manner. Mrs. Fuller’s arm showed a good 


286 


A ''SISTER DORA.” 

"scar,” and so she was comparatively safe; but 
Patience vaccinated her again. The children had 
never been vaccinated before. 

"Have they been much in the room with Mary .^” 
asked Dr. Graham. 

" No ; Mary had such a misery in her head she 
couldn’t bear the noise, and I kept them out all I 
could,” said Mrs. Fuller. 

" So much the better,” answered Patience. 
"Now, Mrs. Fuller, how far does your sister live 
from here ? ” 

"Just down at the next corner.” 

"Then run down now and see if you can move 
there.” 

Mrs. Fuller threw a little shawl over her head 
and went out. 

" Miss Doctor, do you propose to stay here 
alone day and night ? ” 

" No, not alone. I propose to stay here with 
Mary,” and Patience smiled. " I will make ar- 
rangements with mother to have Sally bring my 
meals^to the gate three times a day. I will let 
Mrs. Fuller come and make the fire in the kitchen 
every morning, but she is not to see Mary or stay 
in the house. And I think you will come once a 


A. ‘‘SISTER DORA.” 


287 


day and peep in upon me and see if I need any 
advice or help.” 

“ You must have some place to rest, if you per- 
sist in staying here.” 

“ I will have a cot, a pillow and a blanket sent 
from home ; also a lamp and some books ; and I 
will improve the time by reading up on certain 
subjects that I am anxious to study.” 

Mrs Fuller came in. “ Yes, we can go. Betty 
is making a fire now in her summer kitchen. It 
is better than this room. Here, children, take 
these things and carry over to Aunt Betty’s ; ” and 
she filled their arms with clothes and bedding. 

“ Mrs. Fuller, you understand that you and your 
children are to keep by yourselves in the house, 
and are not to go out at all, except that you are to 
come here every morning,” said Dr. Graham. 

“ Yes, sir,” she replied meekly. 

“ Because if you do not you may spread this 
disease ; and if I hear you are not keeping the 
children at home, I shall have to send you all to 
the poorhouse,” continued Dr. Graham. 

“Your sister can do anything you want done 
outside,” said Patience. “Now, while you gather 
up the rest of your things, I will go home and 


288 


A SISTER DORA.” 

make my arrangements to come and stay. Don’t 
go into Mary’s room if she is quiet.” 

Dr. Graham looked in upon the patient a mo- 
ment. She was tossing uneasily, and moaning, 
but was unconscious. Then he accompanied Pa- 
tience to her office door. 

“ You may expect me to-morrow morning,” he 
said, as he left her. 

Mrs. Preston did not make a single objection to 
her daughter’s plan. It seemed the right and 
only thing for Patience to do, and her mother 
would not make it harder for her by any complaints 
on her part. She found two warm wrappers for 
Patience to wear, and she could burn them when 
she was ready to come home. Sally prepared a 
tempting supper, to which Mrs. Preston and Pa- 
tience sat down, after every thing was in readiness 
for the temporary flitting. 

“ Mother, Sally can take these things over when 
I go. And you can see, from the south chamber 
window, the Fuller kitchen door. If I need help 
at any time I will hang out a white signal. But 
you must not be anxious about me. I do not 
anticipate any trouble.” 

Still it was with an effort at cheerfulness that 


289 


A ‘'SISTER DORA.” 

Mrs. Preston finally said good-by to Patience as 
she went away to her self-imposed task. 

The next ten days and nights seemed to Patience, 
after they had gone by, like a long drawn-out night- 
mare. Dr. Graham came to the door every day, 
but Patience would not allow him to come in. 
“ You can do no good, and you may carry the 
contagion. At any rate, you owe it to your pa- 
tients not to excite their fears. ‘ How is she ? ’ 
No better ; I don’t think she will live. It is con- 
fluent small-pox. She had never been vaccinated. 
‘Anything you can do.?’ Yes; see that Mrs. 
Fuller and her children are looked after.” 

Mrs. Preston and Sally came to the gate three 
times a day, and brought nourishing food for 
Patience. She talked with them from the door, 
but kept them at a distance, Mrs. Preston could 
not fail to see that her daughter’s face was growing 
thin and white under the ordeal, but she was 
powerless to help her in the fearful emergency, 
and could only hope and pray. 

Every morning, when Patience first opened the 
kitchen door, she found a bouquet of fresh flowers, 
usually accompanied by tempting fruit. The at- 
tention — and she could not even imagine from 


290 


A “ SISTER DORA. 


whom it came — pleased and touched her. She 
put the flowers in water, and stood them on the 
kitchen table, where they made the only bright 
spot in that plague-smitten hovel. Then she 
turned to her duties in the .sick room. 

The poor girl’s face was swollen beyond all 
human semblance, and distorted in wild delirium. 
Often, with fever-born strength, she tried to escape 
from her bed, and it required all the power Pa- 
tience possessed to keep her in it. Many times 
she had to struggle violently with the girl, and to 
hold the diseased, loathsome form enclosed tightly 
in her arms till the sufferer’s excitement quieted, 
when she laid her down, exhausted, on her pillow. 

The delirium was frightful to witness ; the de- 
lirious cries heart-rending to hear. Incessantly 
she called for her mother, till Patience could not 
restrain her tears. When Patience could quiet 
her in no other way, she sat down on the bed be- 
side her, drew the girl’s head into her lap, and 
sang to her. Something of the influence of the 
music penetrated even the diseased brain, for 
gradually the paroxysm died away, and the girl 
fell into a sleep that was only little less troubled 
than her half-waking moments. 


A “ SISTER DORA.” 


291 


So the days and nights dragged on. There was 
not the slightest hope of Mary’s recovery. At last 
the end came. Patience was there alone. She 
knelt by the bed, and commended the parting soul 
to God’s mercy. She straightened the form, and 
composed the disfigured features, and wrapped the 
body carefully in clean sheets, ready for the rude 
coffin and the hasty burial. Her white signal had 
brought her mother to the gate. 

It is all over, mother. Get Dr. Gralfam to 
send an undertaker with a plain coffin ; the burial 
must be at once. In two hours send Sally with a 
complete suit for me. She can leave it at the gate. 
Then have the little chamber ready for me — a 
good fire and’ plenty of warm water. I shall be at 
home in a few hours now.” 

There was a hurried funeral, or, rather, there 
was no funeral at all. With her own hands. Pa- 
tience put the body in the coffin, the undertaker, 
meanwhile, standing out of doors with a camphor 
bottle at his nose. No one could blame the man. 
He had a dependent family. Dr. Graham came, 
but Patience kept him also outside. She put the 
lid on the coffin, and sprinkled it freely with dis- 
infectants ; then the undertaker, with her assist- 


292 


A SISTER DORA.” 

ance, got it to the door. Dr. Graham helped put 
it into the hearse, and poor Mary Fuller, who had 
been so long looking forward to this visit at her 
childhood’s home, was carried away, alone, to her 
burial. Rather, she had gone alone on her last_ 
long journey, and her cast-off body was committed 
to the care of the earth, unwept and unmourned. 
What did it signify to her, after all ? 

Patience remained long enough to change her 
clothes, and to throw those she took off upon the 
pile of bedding that was on the front room floor. 
Over all she poured quantities of a disinfectant 
which she spilled liberally about the rooms. Dr. 
Graham was a member of the board of health ; he 
would see that the premises were attended to. 

And then she went home. She felt, as she 
walked outside of the gate, as if she had been a 
prisoner. Her head was dizzy, and she almost 
reeled in the street. She knew it was the re- 
action after such a strain, and also the loss of sleep, 
but she seemed to be in a dream. She went 
straight up to the little chamber. Her mother 
heard her, and went to the door. 

“ Don’t come in yet, mother! ” she called. She 
took a thorough bath, using every possible pre- 


293 


A “ SISTER DORA.” 

caution. Refreshed by this to some extent, she 
called her mother. “ I think, mother dear, you 
had better only come to the door. Will you have 
Sally bring me up a cup of tea, and some toast .? 
Then I will lie down and try to sleep, and you 
must not be frightened if I don’t waken up till 
morning.” She looked very weary and worn. 

“ I am thankful the ordeal is over, my brave 
child, and that you are home again ! I hope you 
will be rested in a few days.” 

Sally brought the lunch, daintily served, and 
Patience drank the tea. The toast she could not 
touch. She put the salver outside the door, and 
then threw herself upon her bed, and that was the 
last of which she was conscious for weeks. 

The next morning Mrs. Preston went early to 
her room. She entered quietly. Patience looked 
at her with wide-open eyes in which there was no 
gleam of recognition. 

“ Patience darling I Are you ill ? ” 

There was no response, but the flushed face and 
hurried breathing told the story. Dr. Graham 
was at once sent for, and came quickly. 

“ I feared it I I feared it ! he exclaimed as 
soon as he went into her room. 


CHAPTER XXVL 


THE REALITY OF IT, 


NY one who has lived in a small town during 



J~\_ an epidemic of any dreaded disease, can 
form some idea of the consternation produced in 
Eagle’s Mere when it became known that there 
was a genuine case of that most feared of all con- 
tagious diseases, within its limits ; and in Shanty 
Town, too, where the people were huddled together 
like sheep, and where it was not reasonable to 
expect any suitable degree of caution could be 
observed in regard to the spread of the contagion. 
There were none of the alleviations of the case 
that exist in a large city : no pest-house, no 
nurses or physicians set apart for such emergen- 
cies. It was seldom that a case occurred in the 
town, but when it did it was regarded in the light 
of a public calamity. Friend shunned friend when 
they met on the street, for fear of infection, and 
the panic that existed so long as any fear of the 


294 


THE REALITY OF IT. 295 

disease remained, can hardly be imagined by the 
residents of a large city, who are accustomed to 
the constant presence of such diseases, but who 
know the public health is carefully guarded by 
competent authority. 

It certainly was a great relief to the excitement 
and alarm when Dr. Graham made public Miss 
Preston’s heroic resolve to prevent all possible 
spread of the contagion by shutting herself up 
with it. Self-preservation is Nature’s first law, 
and it applies to the generous-hearted and the 
unselfish as well as to others. But, after the first 
sensation of relief, people began to appreciate the 
heroism and to exclaim at the self-imposed martyr 
dom, and, by degrees, to feel that the public ex- 
emption from what would be a very great public 
calamity, was being dearly purchased. In the 
darkness of night, when wild March winds raved, 
and moaned, and shrieked around the house, people 
who were snug and safe in their comfortable beds, 
remembered the brave young woman who, alone, 
was watching by the bedside of a delirious sufferer, 
struggling with her, perhaps even holding her dis- 
eased body by force. They could realize the 
loathsomeness of the disease, but to be shut up 


296 


THE REALITY OF IT. 


with it, to have to minister with one’s own hands 
to the patient — and in that wretched hovel ! 

But all their fancies combined could not have 
painted the reality as Patience saw it and experi- 
enced it. 

The young people, when they met, spoke of 
Patience with bated breath. They had learned to 
admire and love her before ; now they reverenced 
her beyond expression. 

“ Do you rem.ember, Alice,” asked Miss Graham 
one day, “ the time when Miss Preston said she 
could not believe in religion because its professors 
were so half-hearted ? I did not think so much 
about it then, but I understand it better now. 
There is no half-heartedness in her religion ; she is 
giving herself, heart, soul and body, in the cause.” 

‘‘ Do you think she would have done it at that 
time if the same need had existed ? ” 

“ No, I do not. Father says she is devoted to 
her profession, but he is sure there is a deeper 
motive in this case. She is sacrificing herself 
for the good of others because she thinks it is 
her duty. Only with her duty seems to be 
privilege.” 

“ You remember she said if she could believe as 


THE REALITY OF IT. 297 

I 

we professed to believe she was sure she could not 
do enough to show her love. Now she is proving 
the truth of what she said ; and we girls ought . 
to be ashamed of ourselves for our unwillingness 
to give up the least pleasure for the sake of the 
Master ! ” 

“ Yes, Alice, I am coming to feel that we ought 
to ask ‘ What can we do ? what can we give up ? ’ 
rather than * What must we do ? what must we give 
up ’ I don’t like to think how often I have said 
‘ Oh ! I don’t think there is any harm in this or that, 
and I am going to do it,’ instead of giving the 
benefit of the doubt to the other side.” 

“ I have been doing that very thing all my life. 

I have been trying to find reasons why this par- 
ticular pleasure was harmless, and that special 
amusement innocent, because I wanted to enjoy 
them. I do believe that if we feel the least doubt 
we ought to be glad to give up anything.” 

“ It is just as Mr. Forrest says, Alice. We 
ought to serve the Master for Love’s sake, and then 
we will consider all service privilege, and render it 
joyfully. It is so easy to do anything for one we 
love.” 

“ Which reminds me, suppose we go over and 


298 


THE REALITY OF IT. 


ask Mrs. Preston if there is anything we can do 
for her.” 

Mrs. Preston assured them that if they could 
send supplies of food and clothing to the Fullers 
it would be a most acceptable service, which they 
did at once, and continued to do so long as the 
necessity existed. 

So, with most of the Eagle’s Mere people, Dr. 
Preston was considered an “ angel of mercy,” a 
“ Florence Nightingale,” a “ Sister Dora.” But 
there were not wanting some sordid souls who had 
no appreciation of the heroism exhibited : “ If she 
chooses to expose herself so foolishly, it is her own 
affair.” “ If she takes the disease and dies of it 
she has only herself to thank.” “ Probably she 
considers it very romantic. I have no patience 
with these women doctors, at any rate ; they have 
too many notions and too little good solid sense.” 
“ Well, she’s not so very young ; she’s thirty- 
three, if she’s a day, and is old enough to do as 
she pleases, but I have no sympathy with such 
strange ideas.” 

To the credit of the profession be it said, every 
medical man in Eagle’s Mere acknowledged that 
Miss Preston had taken the best possible course in 


THE REALITY OF IT. 


299 


the emergency ; they recognized the fact that, 
but for her prompt and heroic action, there must 
inevitably have been an epidemic of the disease, 
with all its attendant consequences. Nor did they 
underrate the actual danger to herself. They forgot 
all former prejudices, and spoke of her in ternis of 
unmeasured praise. From that time she was on 
the same footing in the profession with themselves. 
Every stumbling-block was taken out of the way, 
and henceforth Dr. Preston, or any other qualified 
woman, could practice medicine in Eagle’s Mere 
without let or hinderance from them. 

While the path was being made clear and smooth 
for Dr. Preston’s feet to walk in, one individual 
had come to the decided conclusion that, if he 
could prevent it, she should not henceforth incur 
such risks, nor take upon herself such duties and 
labors. She was not a romantic girl, in the first 
flush of enthusiastic womanhood, to be repressed 
by maturer minds. She was a mature woman 
herself, with all of a noble woman’s capacity for 
self-forgetfulness, ready to devote her skill and ex- 
perience, her strength and courage, when occasion 
required. She was entirely too unselfish ; she 
needed some one to watch over her : to care for 


300 


THE REALITY OF IT. 


her, to shield and protect her. She might practice 
her profession as much as she pleased, within 
reasonable bounds ! 

Mr. Forrest saw Dr. Graham every day while 
Patience was shut up in that dreadful house, and 
asked fully about the progress of the case. Dr. 
Graham comprehended the man’s feelings towards 
Patience, but made no sign ; nor did Mr. Forrest 
send any message, save the flowers, to the faithful 
watcher in the sick room. The flowers at least 
would cheer her prison for a moment. He would 
bide his time to make known his heart. 

And then, when all was over, and Mary Fuller’s 
body taken to its last resting place, Mr. Forrest, and 
her many other friends, were shocked to hear that 
Patience herself was ill. Shocked, though not sur- 
prised. They besieged Dr. Graham for his opinion. 

“ No ; I can’t decide yet. It may be and it may 
not be. She is worn out with the fatigue and the 
nervous strain.” This he said outside. 

To Mrs. Preston : “ Has your daughter had any 
unusual or great anxieties upon her mind these 
past few months ? If so, that will account, in 
part, for her condition.” 

“Yes; oh! yes,” replied Mrs. Preston, with a 


THE REALITY OF IT. 


301 


heavy sigh, as she thought of all they had iDoth 
endured. “Yes; but that anxiety was removed 
just before she went to take care of Mary Fuller.” 

“ The effect still remained in a depressed state 
of the system that made her less able to endure 
the dreadful ordeal she has gone through. Why, 
I tell you, Mrs. Preston, a strong man could hardly 
have borne it. I used to feel ashamed of myself 
when I would waken up at night and think how I 
was permitting Miss Doctor to stay alone with 
that girl ; and it was one of the worst cases I ever 
knew, too. But, you see, if I helped take care of 
her I must give up all my other patients, and I 
have some that I could not safely leave, nor yet 
turn over to another physician. You know how 
people feel about these things ? ” 

“ I do not see. Dr. Graham, how you could have 
done differently from what you have. But I hope 
and pray the disease may spread no further ! ” 
This was the day he was called in to see Patience. 

Two days afterward he said to his daughter, 
“ Miss Doctor has brain fever ; perhaps something 
else may develop later. I have given up my other 
patients to Dr. Moorhead.” 

This looked ominous. 


302 


THE REALITY OF IT. 


During the next week there was much serious 
thinking on the part of the young people in 
Eagle’s Mere. The problems of life and death 
came home to them as seldom before. If her 
work was ended, yet it could not be said that the 
few months Patience had spent here had been 
in vain. She had, at least, set in motion a train 
of thoughts and feelings and purposes that would 
go on, and on, even reaching forward through all 
the eternities. Quietly it had been done, uncon- 
sciously for the most part, and this last crowning 
act of self-sacrifice had set the seal to the reality 
of her religion. There had been no half-hearted- 
ness in her following of the Divine Leader ! 

In the light of her Christian bravery the glamour 
was removed from mere passing pleasures. Life 
seemed too sacred and solemn to spend in seeking 
to amuse one’s self merely. There were grand 
duties to be performed, sacrifices to make, crosses 
to be borne ; not in the spirit with which one 
serves a hard and unfeeling task-master, but will- 
ingly, gladly, joyfully. Yes ; life was full of 
glorious possibilities, and the highest and most 
enduring happiness would come^in sincerely seek- 
ing to know the Master’s will, and to do it. 


THE REALITY OF IT. 


303 


During those anxious days and nights many an 
earnest prayer went up from hearts that had sel- 
dom prayed except for themselves. Instinctively 
it seemed to be recognized that there was nothing 
else they could do. 

Meanwhile, in her darkened chamber, Patience 
was living over, in her delirium, the dreadful scenes 
in Mary Fuller’s sick room. Sometimes she fan- 
cied herself struggling with the poor girl, and 
would beg her to lie down quietly in the bed, so 
that she would not take cold. Again she was 
praying earnestly for the soul that had passed be- 
yond earthly aid, and imploring the pitiful Saviour 
to prepare it for its journey out into the unknown 
and untried world of spirits. Dr. Graham and 
Mrs. Preston, listening to these fancies which were 
memories, gained some idea of what Patience had 
experienced within those closed doors. 

Every one drew a breath of relief when, after a 
few days. Dr. Graham announced positively, Miss 
Doctor has brain fever only. ‘ Will she get well ? ’ 
I cannot say. The issues of life and death are not 
in my hands. She is very, very ill.” 

So, after all, she had not escaped danger. The 
sense of relief was sadly mingled with anxiety. 


CHAPTER XXVII. 


DILLAYE PRESTON. 

M ay had come to Eagle’s Mere. Hillsides 
and field and forest were in all the beauty 
and bravery of their first verdure. Even the som- 
bre old pines seemed to have decked themselves 
in a lighter shade of green, suitable to the season. 
The little lake sparkled and glowed in the sun- 
light, and reflected in its clear waters the trees 
that caressingly overhung its margin, the clouds 
that floated in the sky above it, and the moon that 
made a bridge of shining, quivering silver across 
it at night. 

With May came also a stranger to Eagle’s Mere, 
who inquired the way to Mrs. Preston’s cottage. 
People who met him looked twice at him, there 
was something so familiar, and yet so strange in 
his face. He resembled Patience to a marvel- 
ous degree of likeness. He could not be much 
older than she, perhaps as old as Mr. Forrest, but 
304 


DILLAYE PRESTON. 


305 


his hair, which was short, was also of a snowy 
whiteness. His face was unutterably sad ; not a 
sadness that seemed natural, but acquired. All 
the animation and sparkle and joy that it once 
must have possessed had gone out of it. He looked 
like a man who had experienced great disappoint- 
ment or crushing sorrow. Clearly there was a 
history behind that face ; the most careless ob- 
server would divine so much at a glance. 

Later it was learned that it was Dillaye Preston, 
and he was Miss Preston’s brother; older than she 
by only a year. Patience made known these facts 
when she introduced him, with much fondness, to 
her friends. 

For Patience, though she went down so near 
the dark river that its waters seemed to lave her 
feet, yet came back again to her friends and her 
work. And now, almost before she is able to bear 
the joy, she welcomes her brother. “He is an 
artist,” she explains to Mr. Forrest, after present- 
ing the two to each other, “ and his artistic eye is 
discovering new beauties around Eagle’s Mere at 
every turn. I expect he will give his brush very 
little rest.” 

She was sitting beside her brother, looking very 


3o6 


DILLAYE PRESTON. 


thin and white, but oh ! inexpressibly happy, as 
she gave his hand an affectionate caress. 

“ It must be delightful for you all to be together, 
Mr. Preston,” said Mr. Forrest. 

“ It is, it is,” and Mr. Preston dropped his sister’s 
hand and arose and walked to the window. He 
seemed to be strangely moved. Mrs. Preston soon 
went quietly and stood beside him, with her hand 
placed affectionately on his shoulder. 

“ Do you see that little bit of the lake ? ” she 
asked. “ I want you to make a picture of it for 
me, some day. I used to go there to read your 
letters.” His arm stole around his mother’s slen- 
der waist, and his head bowed tenderly over hers 
till his face rested on her soft hair. 

As the days went on, the people became accus- 
tomed to seeing the grave young man, wRh the 
sad face and prematurely white hair, climbing the 
hills with his easel and paint box, or sitting beside 
the lake on a camp-stool, with his easel before him, 
and painting diligently. He seemed to have a 
passion for his art, and every hour of daylight was 
improved. As he finished his pictures — some of 
them were merely studies, to be completed at an- 
other time — Patience put them up in her office. 


DILLAyE PRESTON. 


307 


where they excited great interest, and drew out 
much commendation. 

But, except through his paintings, no one made 
any progress in his acquaintance. He always went 
to* church with his mother, carefully supporting 
her on his arm, and accompanied by Patience. 
He often took long walks with Patience, going 
with her to the homes of her distant patients, and 
waiting outside till she came out. He drove with 
his mother, taking her to see the lovely spots 
around Eagle’s Mere, which his artist’s eye had 
discovered, but which she was not strong enough 
to walk to. To her and to Patience he was all 
devotion. 

But he was never seen apart from them. He 
never visited the Reading Room, except with 
Patience, nor did he go to any of those places 
where men alone congregate. He seemed to have 
no interest in life aside from his mother. Patience, 
and his art. 

Sometimes, though rarely, Mr. Forrest was able 
to draw him into conversation when they were all 
seated in the cosey office together. In this way 
Mr. Forrest learned that he had been abroad. He 
had travelled extensively. He had visited all the 


3o8 


DILLAYE PRESTON. 


famous art-galleries of Europe, and remembered 
what he had seen. He had painted in Paris and 
Rome, in Florence and Munich. But these mem- 
ories, though evidently fresh and vivid, never 
seemed to give him any pleasure. His face never 
lighted up with the graphically-told reminiscences ; 
never lost its habitual sadness. 

One day, it was the latter part of May, Mr. 
Forrest had called at the office for a few moments. 
Patience was alone. Congratulate me,” he said. 

“ I think I should congratulate her,” Patience 
answered, smiling. 

“ ‘ Her ! ’ Who ? I don’t comprehend ; ” and he 
evidently did not. 

If you cannot tell who the happy individual is, 
I am sure I cannot, Mr. Forrest.” 

“Yes; I understand now. But you are labor- 
ing under a slight misapprehension. My dear, 
long-absent brother is coming home from Arizona 
very soon ; he is on his way here now.” 

“ Then I do congratulate you most heartily, but 
I did not even know you had a brother.” 

“ Miss Preston, is it possible you have heard 
so little gossip that you have never heard Miss 
Graham is engaged to my brother ? ” 


DILLAYE PRESTON. 


309 


A great light dawned upon Patience. She 
could comprehend much that had been till then 
mysterious. She could read between the lines 
now, and what she read made her face flush in- 
voluntarily. She glanced at Mr. Forrest; he was 
gazing intently at her, with a meaning in his eyes 
she had never seen there before. 

And then was told the old, old story, as old as 
Eden, yet new to every generation, and which will 
be as blissfully new to the latest born of earth as 
it was to Adam and Eve in Paradise. 

Mr. P'orrest talked in a straightforward, manly 
way. He was no sentimental boy, sighing and 
whispering vows whose meaning he could not 
begin to fathom. He was in the maturity of a 
noble manhood, and his love for Patience was not 
a mere gush of momentary sentiment. He had 
been attracted by her from his first acquaintance, 
and the feeling had grown stronger with every 
new insight he had gained into her character and 
the ruling motives of her life. At first he had been 
somewhat restrained by the feeling that her pro- 
fession had necessarily set her apart from her sex, 
and that it must inevitably come between her and 
lier husband, if she ever married. 


310 


DILLAYE PRESTON. 


But in these later days he had quite lost his 
fears in that regard. Her devotion to duty had 
shown him that she would not be found lacking in 
any relation in life that she might assume. He 
was no longer terrified at the idea that, if he mar- 
ried her, his identity would be lost in “ Dr. Pres- 
ton’s husband ! ” Even the modest sign that 
swung in the wind before her office door, bearing 
the legend “ Patience Preston, M. D.,” had lost all 
terrors for him now. If she would but consent to 
marry him, she might put anything she chose on 
her sign. Only, if she gave him the right, he 
would insist that she should not wear herself out 
by her professional duties. 

Patience was surprised at his declaration of love, 
and frankly told him so. 

“ Mr. Forrest, I assure you I have, till this hour, 
supposed you were engaged to Miss Graham, so 
you must believe that the honor you have shown 
me is absolutely a surprise, and you can hardly 
expect me to reply to you at once.” 

“ I can easily understand how you may have 
received that impression. But answer one ques- 
tion, please : Has any one else a prior claim upon 
your affections ? ” 


DILLAYE PRESTON. 


3II 

“ No, and yes. No one person, but many per- 
sons. Let me explain. I owe it to you, after 
what you have told me, to be equally frank with 
you. I am devoted to my profession. I have 
been so ever since I entered it, but I hope a higher 
motive has been added to my love for it since I 
came here. I acknowledge that I have said some 
foolish things about being wedded to it. I have 
said and felt that ‘ I would rather make a name 
than marry one ’ ; that I did not ‘ want my name 
graven on my tombstone as Mr. Blank’s relict ; ’ 
and other equally brilliant remarks I have been 
guilty of. The element of personal ambition was 
once very strong in me, and had its full share in 
the enthusiasm of my profession. But I have 
been punished for it — sorely punished ; and though 
I was for a long time very rebellious and unrec- 
onciled, I came at last to accept the punishment 
as needful for my own best good. Now I hope a 
better motive has been substituted in its place, 
but I am still passionately fond of my chosen 
work, and you understand that I mean my patients 
have a prior claim upon me.” 

** But, Miss Preston, this is not your final an- 
swer ? The ide^ is new to you, and you must 


312 


DILLAYE PRESTON. 


think •of it longer. I will not ask you to consider 
how much my own happiness is involved in your 
decision. I should be unworthy to ask such a 
blessing as your love if I were not capable of 
ignoring my personal feelings should necessity 
require. But do you think I would be a hinder- 
ance to you in your work ? Could we not labor 
together for the good of the suffering and the 
poor .? I do not think I should be jealous of your 
patients. I might — who knows.? — even study 
medicine under your tuition, and become your as- 
sistant ! ” he added, with a smile. “ I made such 
progress in microscopy that I am vain enough to 
believe that, with close attention, I might make 
even a more brilliant record in medicine.” 

Patience laughed pleasantly. Mr. Forrest no- 
ticed that her face was regaining its old fullness 
and color, and the dimple near the corner of her 
mouth, that had been missing since her sickness, 
began to show itself when she smiled. 

He went on : “I am selfish in this matter, 
I confess frankly. I ask more than I can give ; 
— not of love, for I should be satisfied if you 
could love me half as much as I love you ; but 
I know you would sacrifice much in marrying. 


DILLAYE PRESTON. 


313 


I can promise you that I would carefully protect 
you from yourself, which is the direction in which 
you need to be protected.” 

“ Do I ? ” 

“ At least in a time of threatened epidemic you 
do.” 

‘‘Well, Mr. Forrest, I tell you plainly, I have 
never intended to marry. I confess there have 
been many times when it has seemed to me that 
to be shut in a home of my own, tenderly cared 
for and protected by one who loved me, would be 
the happiest existence I could conceive of ; and 
then, in such moments, how I have envied those 
blessed wives who were shielded from all contact 
with the rude, outer world ! But those were my 
hours of weariness and weakness ; and when I had 
fully rested myself I was always more in love with 
my profession, and my freedom, than ever.” 

“You are young now. Miss Preston. As you 
grow^older these moments of weakness and weari- 
ness will come oftener.” 

“ I know it.” 

“ I am not going to urge this matter further now. 
We shall be on the same friendly terms as before 
I made my confession to you ; shall we not ? ” 


314 


DILLAYE PRESTON. 


“ Indeed, Mr. Forrest, I should miss a very 
large part of the happiness out of my life if we 
were on less friendly terms.” 

The amount of encouragement this reply gave 
to Mr. Forrest he did not indicate by his manner, 
but he did not go home altogether hopeless after 
Patience had said, — 

“ I promise you to think this over seriously, and 
if I decide that I Can give love for love, I will 
tell you. Nothing less would satisfy you or me — 
or the Master.” 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 


“GUIDED IN JUDGMENT.” 

S UMMER came. Patience was very busy 
again. The heroism shown at poor Mary 
P'uller’s bedside had given her immense popularity 
among the class of people to which the Fullers 
belonged. Few of them could afford to pay their 
physician, but that consideration seldom prevented 
them from sending for her, as it never prevented 
her from responding to their calls. 

Her practice had extended, also, into the higher 
social zones, and she had fully her share of work to 
do ; in fact, more than she was really strong enough 
for. The other physicians never forgot her splen- 
did behavior in the trying emergency, and how she 
had saved the town from a panic, if not from an 
epidemic. All prejudice against her was a thing 
of the past. They consulted with her gladly, and 
gave her opinions most respectful consideration. 
They were obliged to acknowledge that what she 

315 


GUIDED IN JUDGMENT.” 


316 

lacked in years and experience she made up by 
knowledge of all the latest advances in medical 
science, and by close and patient study, added to 
which was a wonderful gift of correct and quick 
diagnosis. They might explain it away by calling 
it womanly instinct, or intuition, if they pleased, 
but the fact remained, and they were often happy 
to avail themselves of it. 

The question was being discussed at Mrs. Pres- 
ton’s cottage, whether they should continue to 
make Eagle’s Mere their home. They had come 
there almost by chance, if there is such a thing as 
chance. They had regarded their stay as only 
temporary. There was now no reason why they 
should not go back to New York, or to some 
large city. All of their plans, till within the past 
year, had pre-supposed that Patience would prac- 
tice in the city. Her education peculiarly fitted 
her for a wider field than she could find in Eagle’s 
Mere. 

“ The matter rests with you. Patience,” Mrs. 
Preston was saying. “ I know you have had many 
obstacles to contend against here. Your work has 
been that of a pioneer ; but I think that stage of it 
is past. The way is clear now for yourself or any 


‘^GUIDED IN JUDGMENT.’’ 31/ 

Other woman ; so you may satisfy your conscience 
on that score. Whatever you decide to be best for 
yourself, we will coincide in.” 

“ Indeed, mother, you have fully as much right 
— far more right — to be consulted as to your 
wishes.” 

‘'Your wishes are mine, in this matter. Patience.” 

“ But, Dillaye, you have not expressed yourself. 
Are you contented in this out-of-the-way place } ” 

“ ‘ Contented ! ’ It is Heaven to be with you 
and mother.” 

“At any rate, mother, we need not at once 
decide this question. We could not find a more 
pleasant place for the summer, and I have enough 
to do to keep me busy, and I am, at least, gaining 
experience.” 

“ More experience than gold, I fancy,” said 
Dillaye. “ I am afraid you are working too 
hard.” 

“ I think you had better take a little of that 
sympathy to yourself, Dillaye,” said Patience. 
“ You are never idle. I believe you sleep with 
your brush in your hand. Are you sure you don’t 
get up and paint in your sleep ? ” 

“ Patience,” said her brother sadly, “ I ought to 


3i8 guided in judgment.** 

keep constantly employed, so as to make up for 
lost time. You have lost no time.” 

“ And you are more than making up for all 
you have lost, my dear boy,” said his mother 
warmly. Patience,” she added, “ you left a good 
paying practice in New York, you must remember. 
As far as the profits of your"^ profession are con- 
cerned, don’t you think you could do better there 
than here You must look at all sides of the 
question.” 

“You never can go back to a place, after any 
length of time has passed, and begin where you 
left off. Nothing has stood still in New York 
since we came away. My old patients are scat- 
tered. They have probably forgotten my exist- 
ence. If I go back, I must start at the very be- 
ginning again ; all my previous practice there will 
count for nothing in making a new start. And 
yet, I confess it, I have a great fondness for the 
rush and the roar, the hurry and bustle of a large 
city. I love its greater opportunities, and its 
broader outlook, and its fuller life. I have often 
rebelled at the narrowness and the quiet of this 
Eagle’s Mere, but not lately.” 

“ For one thing, Patience, the scenery around 


“guided in judgment.*’ 


319 


here compensates for many privations,” said Dil- 
laye. 

“ Well, you certainly have found out every 
charming bit around here ! By the/ way, it is time 
to hear from the picture you sent on to New York, 
is it not } ” And then the conversation drifted 
away to other subjects. 

It was Mrs. Preston who read, in a few days, an 
item in a New York paper regarding the “ Summer 
Art Exhibition ” : 

“ We must specially mention a landscape by an 
artist who modestly withholds his name. It repre- 
sents a tiny lake in a mountain country. Dark 
pines clothe the hills, coming down, in places, to 
the water’s edge. The sky above is filled with 
fleecy clouds, which are reproduced in the mirror- 
ing water. In a shaded nook near the lake, in the 
foreground of the picture, sits a woman clad in 
black, in an attitude of the profoundest sadness. 
Her face is turned away, but in her hand she holds 
a letter, which she evidently has just taken from 
the long yellow envelope in her lap. The picture 
attracts one from the first, and is a marvelous com- 
position. Presumably there is a story back of it. 
We predict a future for the artist.” 


320 “GUIDED IN JUDGMENT.” 

“ O, my son, my son ! ” sobbed Mrs. Preston. 
“ Can nothing purchase forgetfulness } ” 

So the summer wore itself away. The heat was 
tempered by the pure mountain breezes. The 
days were long and golden. The sky was blue as 
ever Italy’s much praised skies, or flecked with soft 
white fleecy clouds that piled themselves fantasti- 
cally on the mountain summits, and dropped down 
blessings on the valleys below. The nights were 
miracles of beauty, whether under the solemn 
silent stars or the clear bright moon. 

The artist soul of Dillaye Preston drank in all 
this beauty. Something in it appealed to his 
bruised spirit with sweet and soothing effect. He 
was still young, despite his white hairs, and it was 
not too late to retrieve the past and make himself 
a name in the world. 

No, he did not care for a name ; that ambition 
was dead. But he could in some degree atone for 
past errors, and, for his mother’s sake, and for his 
sister’s sake, he would do the best that was in his 
power. 

That best wa_s even better than he fancied, and 
all his surroundings at Eagle’s .Mere developed it. 
He worked patiently, steadily, tirelessly. Gradu- 


‘‘GUIDED IN JUDGMENT.” 321 

ally a change came over him, which he was uncon- 
scious of, but which Mrs. Preston welcomed with 
tears of thanksgiving. A happier look grew into 
his thin face. The lines of premature age and 
crushing sorrow were disappearing, and he was less 
silent and reserved in his casual meeting with his 
sister’s or his mother’s friends. The young peo- 
ple, who at first could not understand him, and 
were almost afraid of him, found him a most genial 
and entertaining companion when he sometimes 
forgot himself and took an interested part in their 
conversation. 

“Yes; I am quite contented here. I do not 
care to go back into the great world again, mother. 
Here I have found quiet, and a measure of forget- 
fulness, and work enough to occupy me till the end 
of my days.” This was said late in the summer. 
Later still, but long before he dreamed such a thing 
possible, or even cared for the possibility, he found 
reputation in his art. The pictures he painted in 
that mountain retreat, and sent on to the city, 
carried with them a living message from Nature’s 
heart, which appealed to the most careless ob- 
server, and the artist speedily became recognized 
as one of Nature’s most skillful interpreters. 


322 GUIDED IN JUDGMENT.” 

Thenceforward his future was secure, as far as his 
work was concerned. 

Meanwhile, throughout that entire summer. 
Patience debated the question whether she should 
remain in Eagle’s Mere or return to New York. 
All the strong ties of early habits and education, 
tastes, preferences, and acquirements, drew her 
back strongly to the city. On the other hand, 
there were many potent reasons for staying in 
Eagle’s Mere. Much was involved in her decision, 
and she daily prayed to be “ guided in judgment.” 

Another year has gone by, and it is once more 
May. One more look at Eagle’s Mere before we 
leave it. 

Mrs. Preston’s cottage — but the little sign no 
longer swings before it. “ Patience Preston, 
M. D.,” has gone from the vine-covered home that 
had become such a favorite place of gathering for 
the young people who had learned to love her so 
well, and to reverence her so sincerely. 

Yes ; we can go in. 

Mrs. Preston and Dillaye are still here, but the 
office is now a studio, and its walls are hung with 
pictures of well-known places near Eagle’s Mere. 


** GUIDED IN JUDGMENT.” 323 

‘‘Yes, it is hard to be separated from Patience, 
for we had grown very closely together ; but I am 
satisfied, for I know she is happy, and I should 
be very ungrateful to complain,” Mrs. Preston ex- 
plains ; “ and Dillaye is quite spoiling me with his 
care and tenderness.” She smiles fondly upon the 
artist, who has changed almost beyond recognition. 
It is plain that haunting memories have ceased to 
crush him. The strong young manhood that is in 
him is asserting itself. 

“ The Reading Room ? ” 

We can visit it, also. 

The library has received many additions since 
the books were first put in place. It has over- 
flowed into several additional book-cases. Some 
one whispers that these cases are the work of the 
bashful young man Patience so kindly noticed on 
that eventful New Year’s day: eventful to him, 
because it turned his thoughts into new channels, 
and started his feet on an upward path. 

The class in microscopy is still in a flourishing 
condition, and has a large number of members. 
At present the young men are giving their investi- 
gations a practical turn. They are studying the 
native woods of the region, with a view to deter- 


324 “GUIDED IN JUDGMENT.” 

mining their relative value for various mechanical 
and economic purposes. By placing transverse 
and longitudinal sections of the wood under the 
powerful glass, its adaptability or non-adaptability 
for the required purpose is easily discovered. 

Take a look into the glass yourself. That minute 
fragment of wood seems like every other fragment 
on the slides till it is placed under the glass. 

“Why, it is as loose and porous as a sponge,” 
you exclaim. 

“Not very suitable for building purposes,” ex- 
plains the dignified young man who is manipulat- 
ing the glass, and who bears a striking resemblance 
to the very modest young man referred to. “Not 
very suitable for building purposes, unless you 
want it for interior finishing, to be saturated with 
oil. Then the pores would be an advantage, as 
they would take up such a quantity of the oil used 
in the finishing. Now look at this;” and, slipping 
another slide in place, you see a compact, firm 
growth, that must indicate a wood of great hard- 
ness and toughness. 

“Oak,” he answers, as you look inquiringly at 
him. “ Of course we know the value of oak with- 
out this glass, but there are other woods here that 


“GUIDED IN judgment/* 325 

have been coinparatively little used, and we are 
just learning their worth.” 

If it occurs to you that there is a great spiritual 
truth in this remark, and that lying unrecognized 
all around us are materials waiting to be built 
into God’s temple, whose value we have hitherto 
overlooked, been ignorant of, or despised, then 
you will have learned a valuable lesson from that 
microscope. 

In addition to the class in microscopy one has 
been formed in geology and mineralogy. The 
country is peculiarly adapted to make the study 
interesting, as the out-cropping rocks are full of 
fossil casts and remains, while the mountains are 
already becoming famous for their various valuable 
deposits of minerals and metals. The young men 
are collecting cabinets, and are proud of their 
success. 

“ Very tame amusements ? ’* 

“Very dull recreation ” 

Yes : far more quiet than the saloons ; duller 
than the pool rooms ; tamer than the variety 
theatres. Granted. 

“ Only a straw in the Niagara of vice and dissi- 
pation ” 


326 


“ GUIDED IN judgment; 




Granted again. But if human wit and wisdom, 
and human strength, can lay but a straw in the 
downward way — if it be done in the fear of God 
and for the love of immortal souls, he, seeing the 
motive, may make that straw a barrier between 
some soul and perdition. We are not responsible 
for results. God attends to that part of the work ; 
but he places the means in our hands, and, whether 
weak or weighty to our human seeing, we must use 
them to the utmost limit of our ability. 

No; the Reading Room is not a church, and the 
scientific classes are not Bible classes ; but influ- 
ences have been felt in that place that have led 
young men to the Church, and to the devout study 
of God's word as well as his works. 

The Master has many vineyards, and many 
harvest fields, and he who dresses the vine must 
not say to the tiller of the wheat field, “ Why labor 
you there } Come here into the vineyard ; ” and 
he who sows in the harvest field must not say to 
the vine dresser, “ Lo, this is the Master’s field ! 
Leave your vines and come hither : ” for the earth 
is the Lord’s, and the fullness thereof. 

We must go a little further before we leave 
Eagle’s Mere, this place so beautiful for situation. 


“ GUIDED IN JUDGMENT.’' 32/ 

Right there, — • at the very social north pole, so 
to speak, — on the most delightful spot within the 
favored circle, stands a new, modern-style house. 
Everything around it denotes not only wealth, but 
refined taste. We have never seen the house be- 
fore ; it must have been erected since last year. 

Walk slowly by. A modest silver plate on the 
door, bears the name Forrest. 

But what does that other plate beside the door 
mean ? Can you read it ? 

Patience Forrest, M. D. 











•v..^a.-.«. 







* V*jE* I 


•, ^ -N- ’■'« 

^ I s: 


i> 


V» J 









•O '/t 


V . _^U 





A * 


-^fwSRJ 



‘■'•Ir 








\ - ^s- ■ •■ . ' 


*. 

^-' >\ - 


r * * 






I '< • 1 - L - ‘ *'^-"'1 


-iA'' ' 



c 


■'U33& ' ^ 

. iSSSF 

- I 

* ^ ^ t 



» • 



; -mb 


* • 


.• ^ 






< 


A;* • ‘ 


II * 


v: 


r • 



4iPi 




** 


m 


»v'l 




• * 


ytmf 



. 7-^ 


•#.'* 

^-.r' 'rl-4 








J. . 


tf « 

'." ffi 

Sr'^ 5 : 

*- Q ■ 

'# ^ 

■ '-''HI ‘ i 


•■f 


Jl* . • % • 

i ^ V 1^; 

•* *v2< 






J* 





I - 




•*. 4.* 


»# 


■« 9 B&ri&t - 


tc -W, 1^ 

I A /'i 


r;i; >'» - 






•V r • »• 









; >1 


f‘y 


'■■tq 


•j f \ 


V 




4 


rajKfc .K iJ^UL.*:.;,! ■^ •^>:’ ^ -'■ 

7^Ua ■ i4>w*'« MBBrau 

^ ^DBi"_fllM£it . *3iM * *-. «* ^HI^Dl^E 


•b> 


kr- -1 


1 • 


^ r'T • ♦- 


n *-<'■ 




I P‘7 


I' • -V' 






’-''^'*:A , ,-s 

1. 161^'^ ^ ^ ' !>f 






I 






f 


I 




V 



f 


A 


I 







« 



\ 


« 


I 



♦ ^ 


. # 


4 


I 




« 





, » « 



I 



k 


• • 1 



» 





< 


» > 


I 

* 


r 

z « 





•1 

« 


/ 





i ^ 

JW « ^ I 


t 

I 

« 


t 




( 


f 




1 






» 





) 


' •« 




k' 






« 


I 


< 


4 





\ 


4 


t 





t 

t 


t 


) t ' « 


I 




• • 








♦ - 


•I 




» 4 


0 


r 




% 






I 


» • ‘ 



V 


» 






f 


( 

,1 


4 


^ 1 

I 

I 



I • < 


I • 


.s 



/ 


f 



Dorothy Thorn is a lirst-class American novel. 

By which we do not mean to declare the author 
a Walter Scott on his second book. The workt 
may take its time and rate him as it will; but 
Dorothy Thorn we are sure of. 

It begins as life begins, wherever we pick up 
the threads of it, human. It goes on the same. 
The tale is a sketch of not-surprising events. 
There is not an incident told in the book that does 
not seem tame in the telling, tame with the unro- 
mantic commonplace of life ; and yet there is not 
a spot where the people forget their parts or hesi- 
tate for words or fail to suit the action to them : 
and, however easy the pages, the chapters move 
with conscious strength; and the whole is one; 
it falls with the force of a blow. 

There is a moral to Dorothy Thorn ; there are 
more than one. She is made to live for something 
beyond the reader’s diversion. What that purpose 
is, or what those purposes are, is not set down in 
the book ; but nobody reads and asks. It is high 
in the sense of being good ; and good in the sense 
of being successful. It touches the question of 
questions, work ; and the wisdom comes from two 
women w^ho do not work. It touches never so 
lightly the rising question, the sphere of woman — 
the wisdom on that is said in a dozen words by a 
woman who has never given her “sphere” an 
anxious thought. 

Dorothy Thora of Thornton. By Julian Warth. 276 pages. 
12mo, cloth, $1.25. 

There is hardly a less promising condition out 
of which to write a novel than having a hobby to 
ride ; and of hobbies what can be less picturesque 
than the question how we who work and we who 
direct are going to get on together harmoniously? 

t 


But, when a novel is full of every high satisfac- 
tion, refreshment and gratification in spite of its 
carrying freight of practical wisdom, or rather, 
Avhen wisdom itself is a part of the feast and the 
flow of soul is all the more refreshing for it, then, 
we take it, that novel stands apart from the novels 
of any time or country. And such is the Dorothy 
Thorn of Julian Warth. Not the loftiest flight of 
imagination ; simple in plot — indeed there is no 
plot — the passing of time lets the story go on, 
and it goes the easy way ; and, when it is done, it 
is done. We close the book with regret. The 
exaltation has passed; and we are again in the 
world where wisdom is tame and common things 
bereft of their dignity. But we have sat witli the 
gods and the nectar was heavenly. 


Stories have not run out ; but we often think, 
as we read some quaint and simple tale that be- 
longs to another time or people, “ how good the 
stories were in those days ! ” or “ they are better 
story-tellers than ours ! ” The truth is, good 
stories are rare and live forever. To-day may 
lose them ; to-morrow finds them. 

Swiss Stories for Children and for those who Love Children. 
From the (ferman of Madame Spyri by Lucy Wlieelock. 214 
pages. 12mo, cloth, $1.00. 

So true to child life and family life, they belong 
to us as truly as to the Swiss mountaineers. 

Some of these have delighted English ears 
before. 


t 


As a people we hold opinions concerning the 
rest of the world notoriously incomplete. A book 
that makes us familiar witli life abroad as it 
really is is a public benefit as well as a source of 
pleasure. 

The common saying goes : there is nothing like 
travel for opening one’s eyes to the size of the 
world, to the diversity of ways of thinking and 
living, and to the very little chance of our having 
hit on the true interpretation of everything; no 
education is so broadening. But it is true that 
few have the aptness at seeing strange things in a 
way to cemprehend them; and to see and mis- 
judge is almost worse than not to see at all. 

There is no preparation for travel or substitute 
for it that goes so far towards mending our recep- 
tivity or ignorance as an agreeable book that 
really takes one into the whole of the life one pro- 
poses to study. There is an excellent one out just 
now. 

Life Among: the Germans. By Emma Louise Pany. 340 
pages. 12ino, cloth, $1.50. 

The wonder of it is : it is written by a student- 
girl! — that a girl has the judgment, the tact, the 
self-suppressing watchfulness, the adaptability, 
freshness and readiness, teachableness, the charm- 
ing spirit and manner that lets her into the inside 
view of everything, makes her welcome in homes 
and intimate social gatherings, not as one of 
themselves, but as a foreigner-learner ; and added 
to all these splendid endowments the gift of easy- 
flowing narrative, light in feeling and full of sub- 
stance I 

The book is wonderfully full in the sense of 
solidity. Sentence piled on sentence. Little dis- 
course; all observation; participation. You see 
and share; and you rise from the reading, not 


with a jumble of unconnected information, but 
with a clear impression of having met the people 
and lived in the fatherland. You know the Ger- 
mans as you might not get to know them if you 
lived for a year or two among them. 


Nobody but Mrs. Diaz could get so much wit, 
good sense, and bright nonsense out of barn 
lectures before an audience of nine by a philoso- 
pher of eight years and a month. But trust the 
author of the Cat Book, the William Henry Letters, 
Lucy Maria, Polly Cologne and the Jimmyjohns. 

The John Spicer Lectures. By Abby Morton Diaz. 99 
pages. IGmo, 60 cents. 

All in perfect gravity. These are the subjects : 
Christmas Tree, Knives, Swapping, Clothes, Food, 
Money. And the passages where the applause 
came in are noted. The applause and groans are 
often important parts of the text. 


Excellent reading are sketches of eminent men 
and women if only they are bright enough to 
make one wish 'they were longer. A great deal 
of insight into histoiy, character, human nature, 
is to be got from just such sketches. 

Here are two bookfuls of them : 

Storie.s of Great Men and Stories of Remarkable Women. 
Both by Faye Huntington. 136 and 99 pages. 16mo, cloth, 
60 cents eacli. 

Both the great men and remarkable women, of 
whom by the way there are twenty-six and twenty- 
two, are chosen from many sorts of eminence; 
but they are sketched in a way to draw from the 
life of each some pleasant practical lesson. Not 
designed for Sunday Schools apparently ; but good 
there. 


Can you imagine a more welcome visitor than a 
civilized Chinaman with the recollections of the 
flowery land still fresh, but seeing with our eyes 
and estimating by our weights and measures, and 
gifted with a tolerable English tongue? 

When I was a Boy in China. By Yan Phou Lee. 112 pages 
16ino. cloth, 60 cents. 

The author, grandson of a mandarin, son of a 
merchant, born in ’61, went to the Government 
School at Shanghai, and in ’73 was chosen one of 
the thirty sent to the United States 1 1 be educa- 
ted. 

He writes on : Infancy ; House and Household ; 
Cookery ; Games and Pastimes ; Girls of My Ac- 
quaintance; School and School-life; Religions; 
Holidays; Stories and Story-tellers (gives a speci- 
men story) ; How I Went to Shanghai; How I 
Prepared for America ; First Experiences. 

The narrative is personal. Jumps right into 
it. Tells of himself as a baby, of course from 
knowledge of what happens to boy babies there. 
Illustrates Lowell’s commendation of President 
Lincoln’s English — “ strikes but once and so well 
that he needn’t strike but once.” An easy writer, 
graceful enough, but quick and done with it; full 
of his subject, and yet not over-fond; impatient 
lest his reader tire. He need not hurry. We are 
eager listeners, not at all critical. 

An Anierican boy of twelve beginning life in the 
heart of China and writing a book at twenty-six 
“ When I was a Boy in America ” would indeed be 
a remarkable man to write so well! 

May Yan Phou Lee have a million readers I 


A deeper book concerning self-education, what- 
ever other education may be, and growth of body 
and soul. 

Hold Up Your Heads, Girls! By Annie H. Ryder 197 
pages. 12ino, cloth, $1.00 

The girls are supposed to be out of school. 
How to Talk, How to Get Acquainted with Nature, 
How to Make the Most of Work, What Can I Ho? 
What to Study? and so on to the eleventh chap- 
ter. Youths and Maidens. 

All depends on the preacher. The preacher is 
kind and wise. 


Still another; but this is a story of mothers and 
daughters. Euth was untidy. Busy with books. 
No time for trifles. Work would have to come 
sometime, let it come when it must, biit why so 
soon? And Alice was busy with music. There 
were four of them. 

How They Learned Housework. By Christina Goodwin. 
149 pages. 12ino, cloth, $1.00. 

If you, young girl, imagine you are going to 
learn housework by reading the book, you had 
better read it and And your mistake ; for next to 
knowledge itself is the knowing how to get it. 


A New England Idyl, by Belle C. Greene, is a 
story right out of the soil ; and the soil is pretty 
well taken irp with stones, and leans up edgewise 
besides. This rough and hard New England has 
had its share in forming American character. 

12mo, clotli, $1.00. 

The Idyl is work. The story is good enough 
without any Moral. The Moral is more than any 
story. 


» I 














y . 


f 


’ V 





• r 










1 


1 1 

L i 





I 

» 



I 


♦ 


4 

/ 


► • 

/ 





I 


« 

< 


% 


H 


» 


4 

I 



i 


i 


4 



► ^ 


J 




t 
* 




i 



/ 





I 

, <* 





■ 


» 





I 



4 

0 . / 


:/ 


V-S.Vs 


V • 





4 



A - " 


y 

% 

\ \ 




•: ) 



« 

j 





< » 


» 


\ 


* 


r 



f 


» 


« 






I 

V 


\ 












